bus-stop magic

snow bows gracefully to rain
leaving perfect ice-stars
dangling on my umbrella

clearing

winter runs in rivulets
down the sidewalk
and my soul

sunday...perfect

tea with Hello Kitty
a pen that wanders
the sun shines through the deep cold

after the storm

undaunted
a host of robins trills loudly
above the snow-covered wasteland

spring storm

wind whipping ice on frozen skin
old man winter laughs
and i worry about the robins

faith, unconditional

"is that the same book?" he asks
while handing me my morning coffee
i nod and he squeezes my shoulder

the outhouse roof is leaking

shivering sausage dog casts a baleful glare
from the sheltering branches
of a convenient pine tree

daily devotional

wrapped in red wool
i take a pen walking
across the empty page

perigee

the moon draws in
and pulls the fringe of my soul
into chaos and poetry

almost

robin-song and murky sky
shapeless piles of almost-rotten leaves
a momentary silence before the day begins

confirmation

the squirrels' antics are either
neurological
or an expression of the joys of spring

spring clean

witchery in mop-swirled wishes
spell-cast sandalwood, curls out windows
scent of lavender, peppermint and sage

in love with words

i take her a steaming mug of soup
the spoon clatters as she shovels it down
desperate to get back to her book

precognition

it's knowing how
an orange will taste
by the way it peels

flashback

stepping out into the crisp early morning
the sun is brand new
and i remember my days of fast horses