He does wander
I couldn't be fonder.
The paws are signing
He wants to be dining.
He walks on my keyboard
Because he's ignored.
He lies on my legs with a purr
While shedding all of his fur.
Cat
Category: poem
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Slouching towards Bethlehem
Yak
In those hills
In fact
The yak
If put in a sack
Knows how to quack
It’s just a simple
fact
– written in honor of Ogden Nash and Jack Prelutsky
After the Storm, 6 A.M. East 7th Street
Pale silver sky
reflects on black iron.
Fire escape raindrops
slowly illuminate
this visceral world.
Birds’ babble,
laughter
rises with mist
from the street below.
I smile and
close my eyes
in calm satisfaction.
I lie still
between soft, worn
cotton sheets,
above spring verdant trees,
mahogany branches,
as lemon glimmers
among
sapphire clouds.
I know the secret
of tiny mosaics
and that
magical
pink metal
laundry box
in the bathroom.
The fire escape ladder,
is my tree house
framed by wet-dark branches
and cobalt curtains.
The rain-bejeweled
fire escape
will take me
directly
to heaven.
Protection
Holding babies,
Making art,
Singing loudly
In the rain.
Laundry
Horizon eats sun,
bursting tangerine.
Bold azure,
golden sky,
I pick up the laundry.
Night steals in,
blueberry cloud patches
brushes cornflower dome sky.
Laundry bag slung over shoulder
I gaze
above the knoll of weapons.
Pale rotund moon
strangled gently
by
silver
spider
strands.
Transition: July 25, 2016
Dark night,
sea seeps into sky.
I make footprints,
sand soft against my soles,
soft against my soul,
dipping my feet
at the ocean’s edge.
First light fills the sea.
Sable brushes
against sky.
Ebony ripples
topped
by pale whitecaps.
Still,
the sea is monotonously calm.
One small wave
lands at my feet.
Clouds fall into horizon.
Sky grows lavender
and pale azure,
flaunts charcoal clouds.
Rain
comes.
I
walk.
East,
stirring of orange glow.
By my right shoulder,
moon peers through clouds.
Sandpipers descend
from
wherever they spend the night.
Feast on
tiny shoreline organisms.
Nimbly avoid
the sweep of waves.
Race forward
and back
from water’s edge.
Skim across the sand
in a motley crew,
in a ballet of
choice
&
fate.
Now,
Bach’s major chords.
Lemon, rose, violet commingle,
create
a path to the horizon.
Clouds consume rising mist.
West light expands.
Sun capers
in cloud mountain peaks,
rises from the sea.
Indigo clouds stretch,
unveil coral cumulous,
so fluffy
I could eat them.
Cloud column rises from sea,
lays against green sky.
Thunder crashes,
booms.
Lightening cracks open sky.
Heat leaps from sand.
Moist
heat
rises,
cocoons me.
North turquoise sky,
dusky blue ocean.
I turn south,
purple horizon,
salmon undercoat,
azure and lemon overlay.
Creation
every day.
Delaware Dawn
Rose, yellow, and verdant light
prances,
leaps from ocean surface,
swells.
Cobalt sky,
lightly brushed with
peach clouds.
Seagulls skim
above placid waters,
relentlessly fishing.
Stranded on wet, ochre sand
an upsidedown horseshoe crab,
decorated with barnacles,
a soldier pinned with medals
on his chest.
I roll him over,
gently place him
by surf’s edge.
Old horseshoe crab
feebly turns to sea,
patiently waits
for death to arrive.
Crossing Patapsco Valley
Bridge ahead,
moving mists
hover above it.
Tantalizing
changelings,
or drifting souls,
dare me to drive
through
and beyond them.
I hesitate in apprehension
and reverence.
The clouds roll and seethe
in waves and mountains.
I step on the gas.
Metamorphosis
awaits.
gaia mouse 