Rewritten I Walk right on by Make a nod of head Write down, dead. My past self Holds much the credit Buried on a bookshelf Today I edit. Continue reading

This cold and brittle town crunches under the delicate footsteps of the sun. She walks around the morning with a smile, trying her best not to wake the neighbors. She greets the wood siding of homes, the backsides of trees, the far sides of fallow fields. There are places she cannot reach this time of… Continue reading

South side snow So slow to go The sun sits low Safe in the shadow. Continue reading

The quiet that accompanies a deep breath And the quiet that accompanies the maple’s sap The quiet that accompanies a gust of wind The quiet that accompanies a noonday nap. It’s quiet known in our world of noise And quiet not known by little boys The quiet for which we ever long And the quiet… Continue reading

These patient trees Wait in one direction Lean on time itself In good company. The forests have taught me This is no way to live So parked and planned So tended and trimmed So many paths made By men I’ve never met. Continue reading

I must be going— And thanks for the pie And the wise words to live by And the faithful Birthday cards and checks And calls about my diverse subjects. But I must be going— Although with tears Throughout the years You held my head And my hand And for weeks our weekends planned And cleaned… Continue reading

Gifts rattle in her mind until Christmas-time. She wraps them up to dress in art while just a thought in the shopping cart. She runs the stairs and locks the door, she spins a joy from another’s chore. The paper pulled to perfect size, the tape unfurled within her eyes. And there she sits as… Continue reading

Those days between the holidays of Christmas and New Years are like free change, jumbling about in your pocket. Free change sitting in a saucer by the register. Free change lying on the sidewalk around busy commuters. That free change, those jingling coins, leftover from the wealth of the year, can be used to buy… Continue reading

The might of the night Each wave crashes still I cannot see past the dark But know that soon I will The faintest cry lies beyond The faintest light is there The faintest fear cannot be here If the faintest hope I bear. Continue reading

So many old rocks sit idly near the shore. Patiently they bear the battering of waves and the build-up of salt and the perch of seagulls. No wonder they’ve lost the sharp edges of youth. Continue reading