Sitting on the porch railing
just beyond the glare of the back door
is a curious bird
quite polite, actually
he waited for all the birds to leave
before taking his meal
and he is watching me
through the glass
and he keeps checking the window
to peek in and make sure
I’m not doing anything exciting
and to make sure
I’m not watching him
with his feathers tousled in the wind
and to make sure
It’s okay for him to eat
the seeds in the cage
pounding a rhythm
with his pointy beak
into the suet


More moon

Full moon graces still
A perfect coin of creme color
Slowly rises up the branches
To meet the wispy clouds with
deep reflective light
And step among the stars
To embrace eyes and minds
And I’d like to think it is
Noticed by the waves of people
broken from daily routine
To feel this time, silence
And stand in awe
Underneath that Moon
That shares the navigation
Rounding the burning sun
And we live on
In perfect timing of night
To the wake of the moon


This Old Building

Fixed up an laminated
redone and resurfaced
this old building has seen it all
the feuds and forgiveness
and has felt each footstep
creaking over the floors
shoes of strangers
staying behind their journey
It has absorbed each layer of paint
felt the brush and bristles
has been covered in carpets
glued and tiled and glazed
torn apart and put together again
but after all the masking
the frame is still the same
the bricks still stand in rows
and the wood resists to bend
beneath the weight of gravity
the weight of people passing through
and time, night after day after night
this old building
still stands sturdy



Released from pristine

windblown banks

water rushes:

braiding liquid

shining and clear,

glistening fish scales

hinting at noon sun

and open thoughts,

processing and churning

finally into puddles

smooth and relaxed.

After Snowfall

The silence of snow

perched precariously

in an array of camouflage

Adding each and every branch

contrast to the scene

muffling sounds to

the audible silver ringing

from telephone poles

and electric buildings

as day brightens

and snow drops

from perfect placement


More Snow

Today the sky hovered

low over the tips of trees

And pressed upon our skulls

as if to make sure

we knew it was there

And today the sky

wallowing in white/gray

opposed contrasting darks

of shadowed earth tones

where we live and then

Today the sky

freed bits of itself

once knitted into grief

Shedding lost flakes

that drifted silently

to their fate covering

the darkened ground

to someday return

to tomorrow’s sky.

The leaves wanted to dance

The leaves wanted to dance
The ones remaining on the trees
Long into the chilled air of winter
Rolled up and seeped of color
They rattled in the wind
When it blew through the branches
They were tiny maracas of percussion
Or a xylophone of bird bones
Shushing and stepping and tapping
The sound of dead leaves
Trying to dance


Wednesday Thoughts

Road winding through the space
in front of me
and snow lines each side
like day old pastries
that wait around the graying pavement
dried by sun and
washed by rain and
gazing at the windex sky
holding a delicate puff of moon
for the appreciators
who stand in the middle
when no cars come by and
feel happy for the sights
not quite sure if this means freedom
or a good kind of strange existence