Groundwork

[photo, son David: St. Malo, Fr.]

An arch where vines
Outline illusion,
Beyond which
Stems curl,
Soldered in pearls
Where fog and
Woodruff fuse,
Compose a circuitry
Of choice and fate--
I am always
A pilgrim at this
Garden gate.

Wind Inland

We wait.
Eucalyptus sways
On gray sky.
Caught in current,
Applauding leaves
Vibrate.
All is motion
And air
Turns into
Unseen ocean.

New Arrival

Small lizard-skin
Case containing
Glasses snaps shut.
She moves in the
Wake of others
Up little roads
Clustered around
A station, where
Blue-eyed Rosemary
Begins an end
To winter in
A new nation.
"Ah! I'm cold,"
She says, and
Spring unfolds.