Question

Have you walked past a window
On your way to the bathroom
And seen someone out there
With a garden hose or doing
Whatever and stopped, looked
Longer at the recognizable under
Floppy hat, sunglasses and said,
"I love you", even though you
Know no one but you can hear it
And you've still got to pee, you
Just watch a moment longer
And say it again?

Bench

Expressed in
Velocity, all
Events times
All possible
Events, even
Sitting very still
On this bench,
Is the speed
Of our souls.

Estivation

Summer assembles
High upon the planet,
Swirls down
North wind, rain
In mustard fields,
Bushtits, privets,
Spiders, iris spears.
An idea in nature nears
In illusion left to
To cycles stored
In summer seeds.
Lizards patrol trails.
Ponds recede.
No weather at all.
Apologies wait
Until Fall.

E equals

Over treetops,
In the sky, we
See ourselves
Tonight.
By computation
In moonlit leaves
We are the
Square root
Of light.

Tint Duel

In order
Is disorder understood.
Those funny yellow weeds
Among heather are
Also heather.
There is no heath
The size of itself
Or single way
It goes.
It is
What it is, and how
The cosmos grows.

Gravel

Gravel garden walk--
Crunchy thing--
Pensive sound stirring
History, intrigue, power.
Gold, any gold under flowers?
Nitric acid would tell if
I had any.
Well, arsenic?
Reinsch test misreads
Its own copper gauze
Which contains what it tests for.
Marsh test is accurate
Nine times out of ten.
I haven't the knack
But then, how to tell if
These rocks are backfill
Over poisoned royalty?
This was greed, grief.
This was bone,
Committed to crystal lattice
In a stone.
Or could this be a bug
Breaking into a water drop?
Who am I, then, where stone stops?
Who cares.
I have worked hard on this who,
Don't want it petrified
In poisons under tombs, menhirs,
Pyramids, abbeys, stuff formed
Of so much rock
I'm surprised any is
Left over for my
Gravel garden walk.

Janus Before Seven

Time to sit on a log
And be spellbound
In pearl early light
Turning in low fog.
White tendrils curl
Up from earth,
Ghosts churning
White over winter
Fields.
Not a sound.
How to consume
This crop, this yield?
Sit on a log, be
Spellbound.