Saturday, December 20, 2014

his aches

the old dog –
between his aches and mine,

Thursday, August 21, 2014

campfire smoke

mountain morning –
between the mist
and campfire smoke

Monday, August 4, 2014

summer heat

a wasp
taps at the window . . .
summer heat

Saturday, April 12, 2014

stirs the curtains

night breeze
the scent of apple blossoms
stirs the curtains

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

northbound geese

northbound geese
I negotiate the turn
into my driveway

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Fleck of a Bird

It's proving to be another cold, harsh winter.
At least the old man can say he lived to another winter,
but that seems to be all. There's nothing but grey
everywhere - sky, distant treeline, snow-crusted earth.
All one unending dismal tone. The black fleck of a bird
breaks the monotony, but it's flying away from him and
in its grasp is the old man's tenuous thread to hope.

This is a rewrite of a verse I wrote last winter


Sunday, November 10, 2013

this warmth

this warmth
in my hand - father's
old pocket watch