Cat

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

Few Haiku

Farther reaching clouds
Skimming the dome of the sky
Land among the stars

Mountains made of earth
Giant formation of land
Pointing to the sky

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

Melt

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

Short thing about the Long sky

Gentle tint of casted sky

Clouds bid calm over edges that lie

Slopes to horizon with grater ease

To find that line traced by trees

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