Friday, August 26, 2016

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)

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Soft July

days when you are gone
are silent

except for the rush of wind
in our apple tree.

See how the fruit hangs
heavy, pulling low
the branches;
ready.

so I’ll wait in the shade
of soft July
and think
of you.

(9 July 2014)

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)