Saturday, March 4, 2017


What honeysuckle
Leaves upon a
Paling row grows
Slowly on us
From fence into
Memory, retrieves
Something inside--
A county fair,
A carnival ride.

Thursday, February 2, 2017


Sow bugs found
In fallen wood,
Touched in curiosity,
Curl around into pills --a
Skill in sow bugs everywhere
That humans sadly lack.
We can't get under
Our own backs and hide there,
Or disappear inside
An armored sphere.
We watch them from above,
Do nothing, which is
Awfully close to love.

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Face Of The Waters

Cross-section of
All space; each event
Transmits its sphere
And, where patterns  
Interfere,  a new
Event emerges.
Each puddle 
Verges upon an
Infinite geometry 
Of raindrops in
Random endeavor 
And it doesn't
End, not ever.

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

Back Door Lights

We are results,
Stellar atoms strayed
Escaping , cooled --
Accidental lives 
Scattered on Earth--
Surely worth draping
Light around doors for
And hoping over our 
Faults where odd stars
Gone wrong gather night
Into planets and people.
We play in little lights,
Ignite our notes in song.

Friday, December 2, 2016


                                                                   With love and admiration to all mothers

When her hearing went
She often said,"I can hear you
But I can't tell what you're saying."
At her kitchen table
We watched a storm pound
The olive orchard--
Sunlight fled the field
Crossed the creek and
Dark filled the window,
Then lit blinding blue
Over thunder to the bone.
When the room unrattled
She laughed, "I heard that.
I just couldn't tell what it said."
I wish again that her hearing
had been better because
I'd love to know.

Monday, November 21, 2016


Drought, it hides 
Out underfoot
In tortured roots,
Science, in art,
And doubt, faith
And overhead in
Dry trees where 
We seek the living
Sky from our knees.

Sunday, November 6, 2016

Time Wave

Here, rain falls
Where form fills a
Pull of potential.
Rain falls on what
Will be because
Rain fell.
Life, shrunken nearly
To nothing, soaks, sprouts,
Stretches, ages.

Old bark ridges,
Cuts of other seasons--
Things in soil and reason
Endure between bricks,
Logs --snails, worms, sowbugs.
Treefrogs clutched
In a broken cup

Don't care what time
It is here and,
To a gardener, being
A year --or a million--
Arrears is about
Like caught up.