Sunday, May 26, 2013

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.

Monday, May 20, 2013

water pooling


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

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

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.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

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.

Monday, May 6, 2013

Night Drops Slowly in Spring


Night drops
slowly in spring
through trees flush
with new leaves


birds rush
through swaying limbs
to new nests
to lives unlived

as day fades
to shimmering silk,
as stars gleam with
celestial milk.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

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.