Old Cat

she lies under my chair
warmed by the dancing sun
as singing leaves
nod the long afternoon
towards evening.

her fur flows
in the freshening wind;
she hears the
trees whisper
their secret. . .

that soon night
will draw her in,
cradle her softly,
and fill her eyes
with sleep.

water pooling

water pooling, thrust-
ing to fading sky arch-
ing to apple
leaves
dripping slow-
ly to green
depths
of water pool-
ing.

A Different Wisdom

“. . . a different wisdom: distinguishing the sun from the moon, the stars from the darkness, the sea from the dry land, and the night sky from the shoulder of a hill.”  Thomas Merton

the tree must come down.

no matter that its limbs and leaves

hold the universe in sway,

and green life rages through bending wood.

it leans too close to the fence

by the west wind
brought too low.

the tree must

come

down.

From Inside this Bright Room

From inside this bright room

I cannot see

through windows black

how the good night looms.

Through the clatter of keyboard,

my cool, blue screen glows

my words are dancing

across fields of new snow . . .

but reality waits

in the warm liquid night,

where flow living rivers

of endless delight,

washing me clean

make me ready to dream.

Jesus Curses a Fig Tree

“Early in the morning, as Jesus was on his way back to the city, he was hungry. Seeing a fig tree by the road, he went up to it but found nothing on it except leaves. Then he said to it, 'May you never bear fruit again!' Immediately the tree withered.” Matthew 21:18-19

Today the apple tree unfurled its spring leaves,
green flags waving in the western breeze,
triumphant  yet again over withering winter.

I see small apples, unripe bulbs,
clusters of sweetness,
promised, yet undefined;

imagination or memory
is required to taste that fruit today,

but I’m not hungry
and not on my way
to the rapacious city.

I will wait.