Clearing

I have cleared a path
Through thickets thwarted
At an overlying log, a
Trail in our woods that
Otherwise guided a child
Around and under one
Wonder to another --
To see, to ask the impossible
Of me, which I would
Answer, of course, incorrectly.
So much laughter and
After so much work
And play, a child tows
A wagon away.

Early Rose

Let what leads
Song and feathers into
Warming wind draw
Winter to a close.
Let all lament
And cold-kept grief
Recede and fade and give
Place to the rose.

Grace Cathedral, Nob Hill Poem

Who keeps the keys?
Who sweeps lint over
Labyrinth, sill, steps,
And down the windy hill?
Who presumes
To launch it away,
Shake it from a broom
Above the bay?
A few hopes snagged
On each other,
Around which a ghost grows,
All dust and web --binding
Him, her, hers, his.
Who knows how haunted
This universe is?