Monday, September 19, 2016


spring woods;
a yellow leaf falls –
ah! a butterfly

furrowed field –
the farmer’s face
splits into a grin

spring puddles -
the rain
falling into itself 

spring garden;
the scarecrow stuffed
with autumn straw

tilled ground –
the dry wood
of the hoe’s handle

outstretched arms –
the scarecrow
models his new duds

flame azaleas bloom
in the beds
of a burnt-out house 

 springtime –
for the butterflies and bees,
the season of harvest

dropping from one loneliness
into another –
the chrysalis

cold morning –
the gritty scrape
of the hoe

the starless area
of the sky –
a looming mountain

a winter of deaths –
the spring lilies
smell funereal

folded wings –
all of a moth
the spider left

on a rake’s handle –
perhaps, it’s dreaming

the clink of our gear,
no words between us
this cold mountain morning

the magnolia blossoms
in the cold May rain

roses cling
to the stone house –
our late neighbor

a dewy rose –
the papery wings
of a butterfly

like the dew –
spring evanesces
into summer

after the burial –
a day moon

a sparrow alights –
the gate chain dropping
a chain of dew

near the hayfield fences,
visit the milk thistle

a brief shower –
plum petals float
in the fresh puddles

spring thaw –
drop by drop, the opaque
becomes transparent

urban garden –
roses scale
the razor wire fence

flies buzz the dung;
monarchs dip
into the azaleas

thumps and patters
on my umbrella –
under the plums and out

plum petals,
bird droppings
on the garden buddha

the slightest waft
reveals their presence –

the passing of spring –
my empty
sake cup

for the dewberries -
the redbirds and I

a day of plowing –
furrows crimp
our long shadows


silent labors –
a moth, a spider,
the yellow rose

its silent shape –
the bell’s shadow
on the garden wall

spring garden;
each year I look
more like the scarecrow

 storm winds
roughen the lake,
stretch the willows eastward

                                                dogwood blossoms -
                                                               last to fade 
in the twilight 

spring day;
red wagon,
a child pulling a child

spring planting -
the man atop a tractor
loses his cap

late spring -
under the green woods
roll the Appalachian hills



four a.m. –
listening to my house
bicker with the rain

afternoon nap –
the rain's patter 
through an open window

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