Inductive Current

Not quite awake
But you take a
Moment to touch
My Brow and
I believe that is
How much 
Of what
I see now of
Night slip as 
Light from
Your fingertips.

That Is Good

                      [Normavid raindrops on reflective puddle]

 

Reflection under
Raindrops includes
Sky and tree tops
Over rippling light.
There might be new
Wildflowers seeding --
Or weeds needing mud
Here in these woods
As well as trees, and
After dry years, that
Is good, very good.

Clouds Heading

Clouds heading east over
A eucalyptus tree on what
Was once an inland sea,
Now my valley, assume
Formation off frothing
Crests of wind-whipped
Waves, west and overhead.
The rest of their motion
Obeys the high timeless
Tide of a revenant ocean.

Time Curves Forward

Sowbug, a detrivore,
Found in fallen wood.
When touched in curiosity 
Curls up into a pill --
A skill of survival for
Sowbugs everywhere--
Protecting a future
In hope to live there.

Norma's Garden

Her garden in
Fall light invites
A visit --I read this:
"Good day." Is it?
I must say, it is.

E equals

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

Five Years Into Retirement

[Normaphoto of backyard]

Gray fences, pushed
About by bushes, abandon
Euclid at burled trunks.
Trees outline eccentricities.
Mind divided from a park
By palings sees each
Limb beckon in wind.
Gardens call, and by
Reckoning of
Fall leaves, light, rain
And shadow, go where no
Fences are at all.