Even the Cat

Sunday’s are poetry day. Quiet. Peaceful. Time. Poetry. Words. I may need to share more than just this post. I pray you lend me your kind patience.

Image result for mouse painting

Even the Cat

Even the cat
turned to spy,
sprinted to claw
the brown leaf

that skit across the snow
as a mouse might
making a daring dash
from cavern to cavern

where, beneath our steps,
a kingdom thrives,
the elegance of ice,
the bravery of mice.

An Apple

This unfolded quickly, uncharacteristically dark, but a beauty is captured, nonetheless. Yes?

Image result for winter tree

An Apple

An apple,
forgotten, fallen
from its tree,

under the snow,
a heart
that once thrummed

sweet with pulse
and sugar,
a memory

on the brink.
In the spring,
its all is nothing.


Bust day. Family, friends, food. Here’s a quick word for all of you who visit this blog. Thank you. Happy Thanksgiving.

Image result for jay


I thought of you
as the wind ribboned
through the chimes,
as a jay twitched its eye
toward me hoping
to interpret my worth,
but the wind, the chimes.
This is a day for flight,
to zip beyond the trees
to gather where all gales gather,
perhaps near you,
somewhere just beyond.

I’ve Nowhere to Begin

Really, not knowing what to pen this day, I let my imagination spill and lead me where it would. I good thing to do on a chilly, wet, November day. This piece, for good or ill, simply unfolded as I typed

Image result for desk near a rainy window

I’ve Nowhere to Begin

So, here is fine, under a roof
tapping with rain,
but I’ll assume it’s,
rather, the footsteps
of gnomes climbing
each steep to peer
over the tall pines
to survey the East
and watch tomorrow’s promise
burn this grey,
melt each cloud
into colors that splash
the tulips, the orange marigolds
that cluster about the mailbox post,
soft with age, and hide trembling sprites
from the nastiness of cars
and sniffing dogs.

Taking a Nap

After a long walk with my wife, I was able to take a nap, quite a healthy nap, something I’m not usually able to do.

Image result for beast beneath a tree

Taking a Nap

I dreamt of a dark troll,
carved from shadow,
beneath a willow,
deeply wrapped
in the burdens

of its own silence,
and I hoped the beast
might haunt me again,
slip from sleep
into the soft dim

that layers the air
beneath my bed,
the forgotten space
tucked in the corners
of my closet.