Daily poem 42: Wishful thinking

Last day of May—already!—last 42. I wrote this one during our week of hot summery weather and was hoping by the end of the month it would still be an accurate description. Dream on, Jane. Straight storms and solid rain is all we’re getting for a while to come, it seems.


This sky is full of light


birds’ egg blue

behind a tracery of green


and far beyond this daytime screen,

sea-mirror, blue planet echo,

the infinite blackness of space.


Daily poem 42:

It sounds from the sound of gunshots that there is another ‘battue’ going on and some unfortunate animal is being exterminated.


This fragile peace


where bees drift and birds sing

and in the ripple of the stream, a free wind blows.


A mind set on death

a shadow on the edge

of these quiet places.