Sunday, September 18, 2016


summer evening –
headlights stutter
through the pasture fence

lilac shadows
scale the garden wall;
slip off into the woods

lonely evening –
pansies tremble
under the attic fan

he looks perplexed –
the scarecrow
chest deep in the river’s flood

sultry afternoon –
the tumult of rain
upon my umbrella

in the darkening yard,
the sun strikes
the cockscomb’s red

unlatched gate –
the goat eating
the scarecrow’s hat

we celebrate the equinox –
the sun remains
above it all

pale moon –
the sun-bleached bones
of a sparrow

whatever the weather,
his soft smile –
the buddha in the garden

boating the oars,
the moon floats

morning stiffness –
the scarecrow
wears my cowboy shirt

hillside boulders –
my folded hands
in meditation

in the lush grass lying –
just so, one day,
in my coffin

up from the sea,
the moon

balmy night –
the full moon smeared
by the gauze of a cloud

halfway home
through the sorghum field,
it begins to rain

the creak of the swing
the hot afternoon

the flood has lodged the moon
in the lower branches
of an oak

summer dusk –
the hollow taps
of a woodpecker

in the gloaming,
switch on and off

grandpa’s fiddle –
to and fro,
the porch swing

lazy day –
the long rumble
of a small plane

clouds roam the blue –
the cornstalks
bend and whisper

the child on my shoulders
for the fireworks

a hat covers his face –
a picnicker
in the tree shade

hiking through town –
a woman in a swing
waves back

ripples of wind –
trees shush
the twittering birds

gas station;
I choose an Orange Crush –
the heat!

roadside table –
honeybees explore
a spilled cola

summer day –
an old man carves
his grandson a cane flute

picnic on the lawn –
a boy shows me
his broken kite

cut flowers
have withered
at the roadside cross

ah, the heat!
ants trek a joint
in the concrete drive

o sparrow, who cares for thee?
even the birders
seek rarities

vast blue sky
charted by the grid
of my window screen

she walks
the summer street
in and out of shadows

the old man
shares his lunch
with the sparrows

making the day hotter –
the rattle
of a timber snake

lonely night –
the owl in the woods
shifts steadily northward

 back home again –
the porch swing
weeps beneath me

national anthem –
beyond the scoreboard
a rising moon

summer’s end –
cumulous flowering
above the shorn fields

full moon –
even the dilapidated barn
looks majestic

fording the stream,
they take all day –
the tree shadows

housebound –
in the falling rain,
the sounds of a river

in the high meadow,
horses graze –
a day moon

making the day hotter –
the jangle
of an ice cream truck

clear summer nights –
the shifting of shadows
on the moon’s face

heavy downpour –
from the porch stepping
into the quiet

one light on –
a screen porch
floats in the midnight vale

rooftop party;
beyond the strung lights,
a summer moon

crossing together
pond and sky –
two moons

after the frog’s leap,
silence returns
to the old pond

a heavy fog
bends the willows,
grays the distant pines

summer twilight –
the scarecrow

young lovers in the rain –
when was the last time
I got soaked?

running ahead to the lake,
following me home –
my shadow

lonely evening –
a summer downpour
engulfs the house

sultry afternoon –
the distant thunder
makes me drowsy

at a dewdrop –
these bent fingers

day’s end –
the tree shadows are soft
on the old barn

high, thin clouds
smudge the fern shadows
on the garden wall

sidewalk cafe –
sharing a table
with a bottlefly

the moon under sail,
gazing back
upon a wake of stars

between Cassiopeia
and me –

a shingled beach –
the moon speaks
under my feet

at the feathery end
of a dream –
the crowing cock

wildwood twilight –
the lake absorbs
the rushing stream

lush garden;
a blue sky
in the birdbath

late summer –
the last of the sun
in a dangling poplar leaf

has drained the color
from the pines

hot day –
the screen door’s
creak and slam

mild day –
tree shadows sweep
the garden path

rains have left
the river swollen –
a late summer moon

on a small rise
the summer green
studded with tombstones

fine brushstrokes –
pine needle shadows
on the garden wall

filling our senses –
a summer
city downpour

a footpath
through the paddock –
the smell of early dew

late summer –
seedpods rattle
on the mimosa

evening shadows –
the broken trail
of a firefly

blackbirds arranged
on the power lines –
the wind’s song

on the pine table –
assorted wildflowers
in a mason jar

unscathed, the moon
from a summer storm

beyond the fence,
a young horse
races with my automobile

 thick woods;
the sky
follows the river

abandoned house –  
the summer heat,
inside and out

 above the flood,
a dusty 

absorbing the sunlight,
glowing in the dark -

night and day,
the fireflies
on and off

lunch in the park –
tossing our leavings
to the fat ducks

late summer -
copper wishes collect
at the bottom of the well

to and fro,
the tractor chugs –
summer moon


summer day –
beyond the paper shades,
sparrows chirrup

 bream fishing –
a brief shower
roughens the lake

a thick woods;
the sound of rain
in the unseen river

taking its time –
the moon
to cross the river

boating the oars –
the pond whispers
in the light rain

here and there, fireflies;
this day, too,
has come to an end

midsummer night –
in the river current,
a misshapen moon

the thunderstorm,
lightning bugs 

through the window screen,
the cooling
sound of rain

in the feed shed –
the first rattle of rain
on the tin roof

lonely evening –
rattles the windows

the thunderstorm,
lightning bugs

down to seeds and stems –
my bowl   
of sweet red cherries

abandoned farmstead;
winds ripple the grass
gone to seed 

deer saunter
onto the cool green glade

making hay; 
the green fragrance
of the shorn fields

along the fence,
a spring filly  
races my automobile

a light rain;
the marsh reeds   

the old man in his garden
leans on the hoe  
to catch his breath

along the meadow,
summer trees;  
differing shades of green

after the fireworks,
the littered field;
a summer moon 

onset of rain; 
the woodlands
begin to chatter

like game pieces –
hay bales scattered
in the shorn fields

cane pole fishing;
the rustle 
of poplar leaves

atop my empty
a mockingbird

quiet night;
the pale heat  
of a summer moon

quiet afternoon;
biting into  
a red delicious

luring me outdoors,
the yellow flurry  
of a pine warbler

after a rain,
the steaming summer streets

at the alley’s end,
climbing – 
a summer moon

beach night;  
a satellite threading its way
through the stars

Saturday sleep in; 
the neighbor’s mower
refuses to crank 

gathering dusk;
the tossed ball,
a smudge of white

summer night; 
a scattering of lights
across the bay

morning trek;   
abandoning the thicket,
a lone thrush

 quiet night; 
just me and the hare  
in the moon

sunlit burial; 
a warbler sings
atop a nearby stone

morning walk; 
remnants of rain
in the tall grass

shimmering day; 
how cool it looks –
the woodland shade

from the embers
of a fiery day,  
the cool moon rises

amid the cicadas’ din,
the hooting
of an owl 

late summer;
the scent 
of sun-warmed pines

overnight mushrooms,
the colors 
of sunrise

sweltering August;
a trail through 
the house-high brambles

sparrow on a nearby twig
the distant stream

the approaching rain –
sound and scent
of coolness

all evening,
in waves –
the croaking frogs

dusk at last;  
almost palpable,
the summer air

westward, a hooting owl;
to the east, 
a mourning dove

the shadows
shrill with insects

end of summer;  
a field of kudzu
in the shape of a house

shimmering day;
the long rumble 
of an unseen jet

on a gossamer thread,
twirling, twirling –

a dead leaf  


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