Shorts for today

the fussy decoration
that spoils perfection.

no heating windows wide
room full of bees.

roses’ exuberant growth
I weep for the loss.

on a winter’s day
with the lizards.

the clearest blue lace-edged
with black boughs.


May evening


Another golden day

and blackbirds duel in their singing

fescue waves like banners


an oriole a flash of buttercup

yellow flutters in the willow tree

local exotica


light is soft

when rays slant low

skimming daisy heads


I wonder is the blue

too much too bright and hot

a steel drum


the tractor trundles home

and bird silence falls

a cascade of quiet.


Thoughts inspired by John Masefield.


I miss the sound of the sea

the smell of salt

the wash of waves on silver sand.


We were all water once

woven warp and weft from ocean whisper

and the deep dreams of whales.


I will go back at the end of the day

before the dying of the light

and linger in the salt blue sun.


Once when we were water

we knew what was true and what lie

why we must go down to the sea again.

Can I?

south window looking west

Can I write words of more than peace,

other than the hush of evening,

when the sounds of people cease?


Will the blackbird finish singing,

when the sun sets in the west,

and all the birds are homeward winging?


Can I, will I, should I, want for

more than hush and evening falling,

to hear the dark in owl-voice calling?


There is a place among the grasses,

where hares sleep and flowers flourish,

time’s last golden moment passes.

Time hangs poised


Time hangs, a kestrel poised

while winds blow, the river flows,

and I wait.


I wait for the widening gyre,

the ripples and dipples on the stream,

the grasses that bend.


All hang, waiting for time to pass,

the moment and all the wealth that is in it,

songs, scents, sights,


so we can regret, mourn and look back

and in regretting make sense

of what was, is, and is to come.


Owl glides, nightingale sings,

stars hold their breath,

and I watch for the dawn, hoping.

Dark earth



Days of rain and nights of storm

the world is spinning, water flowing

while in the dark the rain clouds swarm


Nights of rain and wind trees blowing

storm of clouds and glow-worms glowing

hear the restless night birds crowing.


Rainy nights of moonglow hidden

memories that come unbidden

all are worms in dark earth growing.