You Who Await Spring

You who await spring, although everything
wears the weight of cold, a bird
alights and then another. You’re thinking
of those cool mornings of warm days
that somehow hold something of the warmth
to come. In between seasons a gauze curtain is
draped. You’ll step outside and move beyond
the light fabric and though little has yet changed
behind that cloth is the mind that knows
days steeped in hope.

written March 4, 2025

Into Winter Morning

I wake in the morning
of the third month of winter
pull open the drapes
and feel the cold weight
of the snow resting
on a gray landscape

yet I hesitate to wish
it away as a part
of me knows that more
of this that gives
of quiet inward mind
is needed before
the days finally come
that are flush
with ruddy spring

February 24, 2025

Pursuits

you see that try-hard
has become rigid
so instead you think to
relax when you’re sitting
take preferences more lightly
set the table
light the candles
and patiently await
the guest

written February 17, 2025

Creating

I consider how life may
offer her paths before me
and I imagine the land
along the way but I
also apply
imagination to the perception
of where I stand
to create
some reality around it
the realness of story
the trees stretching above
and me
taking a step

written February 13, 2025

I See Myself Older

I see myself older
sitting like I sit now,
drinking coffee,
drifting through the pages
of a book, but then
with a beard all gray
and less hair on
my head to shave—anyway,
I’ll be sitting, sipping
a mug of coffee, thinking
of some imagining
from today
that touched down
like a maple seed
and nestled
in soil and would grow
into some greenery of
my life, which my
gray-bearded self
is shaded by
calmly and with kindness.

written January 27, 2025

(Cool Blue) Early Morning

snow-covered ground
(& sleeping buildings)
robins are up through cold air
into trees I say a prayer
before coffee I’m thinking about fear
(& a matter-damp mind)
how to dry off I’m not quite sure
we are on the East Coast
as it turns we wait
for the light to break through
(but till then I’ll take the song
of bird)

written January 31, 2025

Transparent

a cup of water
a drop of red
expands and tints
it red a drop
of blue and the water
purple but what
of such a clear drop
upon touch the cup’s
water again transparent

a flake of snow
drops through the heavens
to pass by my window

remember
being there
in the cold air
with arms back
head tilted upward
tongue stretched out
waiting for
the touch
of crystalline water

written January 2025

A Moment of Light

it could take the shape
of a sunshine cup of coffee
steam like drifting mist
with sun draping the table
in the old jazz floral cafe
and the gleaming knife
as you spread the lemon spread
and the gleam itself
it can feel like a kindness

written January 2025

Outside the Library

before
the winter
storm
its scent
in the air
comes to me
outside
the library

from January 2019

Gifts

Going out to my car,
the air is relaxed for
a November evening.

Running late, and
still enough time
to gaze at the moon.

written November 2021

Meeting

my mind is a garden
wander yourself in it friend
bring some of your mind flowers
see if they would grow
and if you would like
take a plant or two
with you for your travels
perhaps we’ll meet again

written July 2024

Unfounded Worry

the prayer came back:
this cold blue thing
is not to be dissolved 
instead     accommodated
and then when inevitably disturbed
that thing     (now anticipated)
is not an unnecessary call
to action     but
something to accept     yes:
we’ll let it play in the corner
till it’s done

written August 2024

A Thread

We don’t gather
in evenings with instruments
or stories so maybe
art and music and writing
their media, is a connection
(among this isolation)
to others, a thread
of meaning, shared.

written June 2022

Between Dense Cloud Cover and Moist Earth

Jung wrote that
life is not a string
of facts of external events
but is instead
made of story composed of myth

on a day when
the gray is a tone
that all the form all the color
seem to all speak

the chrysanthemum such a yellow
such a yellow as if illumined
by its own light

written October 2022

Sparrow Speak

I hear squeaks with round
edges

and energetic inflection
she

chirps into the sunny afternoon
there

must be meaning in this
pattern

of sound received by
other

sparrows otherwise it’s
pure

art or pure
joy

or all in one the
song

projected into afternoon
sunlight

written summer 2014

Coffee Stir

the way I hold spoon
to a coffee stir     this
hold spoon is the hold spoon
of Grandma’s when she
would hold spoon to a coffee stir
it just seems the same
all these years later

written May 2024

We Have Doves, They Are Called Mourning

*

She sits on the flat rock
in front of the light
that shines on the fountain.
This is where they sat.

*

The day before, the woman
found feathers strewn in the yard.
She assumed it was the result
of a hawk feeding. Her best guess:
the feathers were of a mourning dove.

*

And now in the gathering dusk
the dove sits alone on a rock
near the flowing water.
She honors her name.
She gives her presence 
to one’s absence.

written May 2023

Forest Walk

all the doing
to get here

     is undone
     by being here

written July 2024

Something of Me

bird (beyond my sight) you sing
in lush tones I know not
your form / your name you find
something of me among
wood & brick bringing
your outside through glass
like the forest is
floating here in my mind

written May 2024

Summer’s Beginning

The balcony bathed in sun.
I sit out on it alone, reading
a poet who was tempered by solitude.
I drink in the sunlight.
Thunderstorms forecast for the next week.
The boards hot on my feet,
I slip inside, cool & dark,
the book still warm
in my hands.

written June 2023