Lament for the Children of Syria

I do not seek you

where the children peer

into the burning night;

fire, false dawn

consumes their eyes,

rages through thin skin.

I do not know

where you go when

the gas softly flows

through the shelter;

have you left us here

in this veil of tears, fear-

full and alone?

Oh, where may I seek you

but in this green shade

of whitened bone?

(1 Oct 2013)

Morning Harvest

The best apples are near the top

so bringing out my new ladder

I rise through the swaying branches

to reach bright green clusters,

but, intent on windfall, the Suisun breeze

flails the apple leaves

and conspires with swaying limbs

to blow me back down again.

Stubborn human,

I climb to the extreme step

and find them all waiting,

glowing, green, ready.

Rejoicing, I fill my paper sack

until its weight brings me back

to the stationary ground, satisfied

with the morning's sweet harvest.

(11 July 2013)