I bring her a strand of my auburn hair
and tuck it in a seam of wintery shore.
The Lake swallows
adjusting her grand sleeping body.
Her violet breath flows
beneath bergs of crystalline clouds
whose icy edges rub trickling water
and chime...
February 12, 2021
When morning slips into my room,
she offers me a state of grace.
And I see with my closed eyes
the descendants of cantors
dressed in many shades of violet.
This choir, who have my father’s smile,
chants only to keep the frost from silence...
December 21, 2020
For I am sorry to have washed you away
from your home, under-and-inside
the primitive clay statue of Gaia who watched...
October 19, 2020
All summer
they rise.
Faces follow
the light.
And when
August turns
to autumn,
every
sunflower
bows.
August 30, 2020
Lupin dreams on the bed.
She is swimming beyond misty veils,
finding her way back to my ancestors.
I haven’t started laundry or dusted.
Instead, I’ve read awful news and
visited the Lake on YouTube; thankfully
she is swaying,...
June 16, 2020
Wind-tossed under the maple
on our weed lawn, lies a nest
that’s three-quarters
woven together—
dried grasses, seed fluff
and strands of auburn hair.
I scoop it up and bring it inside
to our bookshelf where we
intimately admire
the...
April 21, 2020
Three
withered
rose hips
bathe
in silver
light
between
the stiff
bristles
of her
sleeping
branches.
February 25, 2020
From deep solstice woods
the copper moon is rising,
expectant with hope.
December 21, 2019
Curling through mauve skies,
waking dreams rise one by one
from the breath of stones.
October 30, 2019
