closed snow street
sunlight stops at the house windows
Category: Issue 05
winter calmness…
even on the child’s see-saw
an even coat of snow
Jicarita Peak
fading light favors
the silver fox
snowfall–
a child draws the horizon
on a window
fireplace–
the last glow
from Grandpa’s tree
bobbing up and down–
an empty perrier bottle
in a stagnant pool
new moon …
an empty hollow
on your side of the bed
blizzard . . .
in my headlights
10,000 flakes
winter midnight . . .
a fresh foot of snow
lightens the sky
the greenhouse–
on the seed catalogue
a half eaten red apple
long winter’s night
we turn the covers down
together
hearth light…
dad’s shadow sharpens
against the frosted window
hospice lounge
the newspaper
three days old
playground rain
a white chalk heart
washes away
clearing fog–
reds, yellows and blues
dot the sled hill
a fly on the creamer
so i drink my coffee black
sunday morning brunch
a snail
dallies under a leaf —
empty mailbox
rush hour
the ticket taker’s
shaking hands
quiet morning . . .
some of the fence
still standing
jazz singer’s solo –
the length
of her blue dress
fading light
rain overflows
the gutter
crescent moon
the vendor
slices a melon
high tide
he casts his fishing line
into the darkness
stillness
along this snowpacked road
noises of small birds
Lingering cold:
both hands surround
my battered tea mug
poui blossoms fall
I am torn between looking
up and down
flowering pear tree
a trail of white petals
tracing the wind
spring cleaning
bouncing from the pavement
steady rain
zen garden
the monk’s shadow
the monk himself
entwined . . .
this thought of spring
rises with the moon
“DO NOT ENTER” tape
lifting in the spring breeze —
the gate opened wide
spring thaw
the crow pecks at its shadow
moon viewing party –
the moon
arrives late
Easter
the lost bookmark in the bible
reappears
planter’s moon
the milk white arc
of her nine month belly
at the news-stand
today’s truths stacked up
taller than me
Down the mountain
lost mitten lying
palm up on the trail
new shower gel –
my thoughts
still dirty
a kaleidoscope––
prisms of you turning
into river water
hiss of leaves
washing snaps
on the line
birthday balloons
the one that doesn’t burst
blows away
brown thrush
those long legs lost
in clover
Writing with strands of
watery hair on her bare back
a love haiku
in the gravel
along the railroad tracks–
pussy willows
the wait
to take a driving test . . .
ants on the sidewalk
desert sunrise
the beat of butterfly wings
pitching horseshoes
after the storm . . .
a double rainbow
moonless night–
the smell of the pond
in the bull frog’s cry
abandoned stable…
wild roses bloom
along the split rail fence
windy night
a solitary cricket chirps
at the stars
early sun —
the red-wing glides
into shade
black on black
the tombstone’s shadow
on the widow’s dress
saturday morning
biking to the park
the click of marbles
summer gusts
the outdoor furniture
rearranged
early morning
reflected in the lake
another city
strains of the violin
– the old man walks
to his own rhythm
hollow cello case
low notes and the rhythm
of us
windless afternoon –
at the temple gate
the Wind God’s stare
low tide
the smell of seaweed
and her Chanel No. 5
red grapes…
the many hands it took
to bring them to this table
white petals–
the smell of flowers
over the tomb
red dragonfly
redder still
this sunset
etched in tree bark
the names of lovers
no longer in love
outdoor concert
the mosquitoes
off-key
in today’s headlines
fresh catch
of the day
hot bright day
clop clopping in the street
a policeman’s horse
the butterfly
touches me with
her orange colour
lighthouse field:
a kite filled sky
tugs at the earth
ragged leaf
the yellow grasshopper’s
missing leg
the red horizon in puddles
darkened street
a boy naps–
dust devils spin
down the lane
A small pink blossom
floating in a clear glass bowl.
How alone we are!
glittering
in the puddle
a brand new dime
hail storm
tiny white balls
bounce on the deck
afternoon heat
the slow blink
of the bullfrog’s eyes
summer downpour —
next door
the kids keep playing
Renaissance Faire
a knight in armor
hides his cell phone
Summer solstice
new bloom on tiny tree:
tinywords 2.0
june bug–
memories of
a childhood friend
did I drop something?
I bend over to pick up
a patch of moonlight
fresh iguana stew
with the last warm tortilla
mopping the tureen
darkening sky …
the snake curves
into my path
morning sunlight
the sound of rain on the marsh
taking front stage —
a moth circles
the spotlight
hurricane season–
a pair of cranes
walk against the wind
lost
in a field of sunflowers
the sun
he brings
to the picnic table
a jar of fireflies
moon shadow
the pyracantha
grows across the floor
desert funeral–
a dead cactus
still bears its thorns
bed rest
a spider crosses the ceiling
in eight seconds flat
the dog returning…
in his mouth
a different stick
lupine–
a darker blue
in the hoofprints
fragrant breeze
kids rush in to sell roses
at the traffic signals
old brothel –
a FOR SALE sign
atop another
summer weekend…
mist on my face
from the crop duster
bombs in london my wife calls
her brother just to hear his voice
first rain
the bright colors
of her summer top
art gallery
the rustle of her skirt
on the staircase
orange sunrise
birds fly in formation
above an empty beach
calm lake
even the canoeist
is still
crossing the stream
on the next stepping-stone
a tiny frog
school garden
sunflower bowing
under a crow’s weight
white cloud gliding
over the mirrored lake–
ibis dips a wingtip
ball three–
the manager’s foot
on the dugout steps
stiff wind–
the bull bares
his teeth
the old cat
sniffs and paws
its photograph
busy weekend
a withered leaf falls
beside the broom
six ants
come out of his laptop —
summer school
roadside field
barbed wire fence
leaning into mist
cold mist
only the mourning doves
have voices
a long fly ball
arcs above the moon…
summer deepens
seagrass
a folded ochre star
in the tidepool
empty bus stop
the song of crickets
becomes stronger
star filled night–
a wandering coyote
sleeps in a trash can
murmuring voices
along the shoreline,
smelters’ lanterns
along
this block of Elm Street
linden blossoms
pulsing sea jellies
a symphony orchestra
on mute
withered
near the fountain
a sunflower dips its head
muddy trail
deep footprints
filling with rain
abandoned dog . . .
looking at the face of
every pedestrian