Feels Like Spring

 

For Example

Flickering light bulb:

useless, annoying, futile.

My kingdom for Light!

Potassium salt,

like an insipid Christian:

Sorry, that was me.

The Men Are Working

Saw blades a-whirring,

stirring up toasty wood smells

in the barn--(garage).

Clang, bang, thud metal

To stud. Big nails, big hammer,

Big hands, big shoulders.

Glistening faces,

showing pride in their eyebrows,

not grinning like boys.

Nala II

Sprawling in the grass,

little white teeth, fangs exposed--

arching chest, paws up.

Black coat, hot and smooth,

ridiculous huge pink tongue

lolls and flops, delighted.

I'm a child! she laughs,

rubs her back in sandy dirt,

sniffs delicious air.

More Thoughts

 

Clouds II

One cloud vanishes,

Never again to return.

Once, always changing.

All clouds drift away.

None can ever stay the same;

None lasts forever.

A cloud may give hope

Of soft rain that never comes,

Even though we thirst.

Clouds, unrelenting,

Sustain the gray of winter--

Though show what light hid. 

Floating cloud calls me

And laughs. It knows I want to

Climb around in it.

The Mayor, Part Two

Out walking my dog,

Saw a man--we've met before,

He didn't know me.

I'd had a haircut.

I didn't know him either--

He had grown a beard.

Fearful of Change

Crossing in the dark,

Nightlights sprinkled everywhere,

Like a Christmas walk.

May Days

 

Clouds

One, like a man's hand.

Small, not insignificant--

Watch, wait patiently.

Look up! I saw it,

As with Elijah's servant,

Like a beard in blue.

Hanging out laundry

Next morning, the sky was full,

Packed with tiny clouds.

Little puffs gathered,

Covering like written words

Or illustration.

Kind of

I kind of know how

It might feel under that tree,

Discouraged by men.

Juniper, fig tree,

Gourd... So this is where we rest,

God hears, cares for us.

Answered Prayer

Yesterday I prayed

And God clearly answered me.

This morning I prayed,

"I am sorry, God.

I don't know how to do things,

Other than fight through.

I'm a fighter, Lord,

Teach me to fight the right way."

I am getting bruised.

A New Adventure

 

Late Spring

Snow fences gone now,

Once held deep in drifted sand,

Set free by tractors.

Across the harbor,

Rising anchor clank clank clanks;

Ferry booms her horn.

Pup leaps through the swash,

No dogs allowed sign ignored--

Not yet people time.

The Mayor

Sits on the front porch,

motioning to passers-by

who stroll through his realm.

Compact bungalow--

homey, humble, hallowed,

two blocks from the beach.

Small, sloped yard, packed with

colorful flowers, wind chimes,

huge round hand-picked rocks.

This strange old hippie,

tall, thin, long-haired, piercing-eyed...

not yet elected.

Not Yet

Ron and John driving, 

Not covered wagons, but trucks

Across the country.

Most of our stuff now

Jostling precariously,

Including the dog.

Things That Make Sense Only to Me

 

Fruit

I like to paint fruit,

but I don't like to eat it

because it's sour.

Except for bananas,

but they can be bad also

in various ways.

But fruit sits nicely,

is not too complicated,

makes a good subject.

I have too many

paintings of fruit in my house,

but there are worse things.

 

Art

Non-representational art

is a lot harder to create

than you might think.

If you don't believe me, try it.

Purple

Purple's not my fave,

And yet, mysteriously,

it keeps appearing.

Chimney

 

Chimney

Tea on the front porch.

I watch the delicate, fresh, 

Lemon-green spring leaves.

Peering through, I find

A chimney across the street.

Tall, thin, red, brown brick. 

Behind, large trees sway,

Enhancing the blissfulness--

Blessed...simple peace.

Warmed by memory

Unknown...I'm a child again,

Joyfully alive.

Three Cattle Nonets

 Three Cattle Nonets

Bucolic 

Buttercups blanketing Ben's pasture,

cows won't eat—they'd blister their lips.

And there aren't many calves.

Both bulls lame the same time.

When they fought last year,

it didn't seem

like either

would get 

hurt.

Don't Blink

Across the field outside my window,

a calf was born this afternoon.

Ron, back from fishing all day,

saw it take its first steps.

I had watched the cows

all morning long,

but had just

turned my

back. 

Kentucky

Calves frolic, some, with their young mothers.

Others play in packs--freely, wild.

Seeing them brings breath to life.

Recalling unchained bliss,

my heart runs with them--

leaps, bucks, sails, sings,

as we run

in the

grass.