This Suburban Gardener

The water in the birdbath
reflects
yellow finches
resting on the branches
of a river birch.
Suburban wild rabbits
(the kind you fear in the night)
shear off dandelion shoots
and pull them into their mouths
with startling efficiency.
Already, they’ve eaten the lilies,
before they had chances to bloom.
This suburban gardener
rises, bloodied,
but armed with only garlic,
we will do battle.

Sugar Cream Pie

People die
as we drink our coffee
and eat a mid-afternoon pie.
His cousin
used to work with my aunt
and this thin line
is enough to make
words catch in my throat
knowing
their world
has been blown apart
and I marvel
that I cannot
hear the screams
while
we drink our coffee
and eat a mid-afternoon pie.

Mining the Oort

Artists conception of brown dwarf from Wikipedia

Sending probes

deep into the Oort

testing
balls of rock and ice
for poetic ideas
but
I run into
the good sister of Nemesis
and the juxtaposition
of physical science
and Greek gods
damages my probe
beyond repair,
leaving
any poetic worlds

undiscovered.

If it weren't for bad luck

Bad luck brought me here,
following this crooked line
from Misery
and Michigan
to this day,
when the Sun angles in
and reflects off of
blue sky drawings
of kittens and pups
and rainbows
and raindrops
and smiling suns.
This turned over glass,
this spilled life
somehow
found me here
where I no longer
think of luck
or worry
of its
consequence.

Something so Strong

There is no magic
in the way it's always been,
just ruts
formed in muddy pathways
which hardened over time
making
egress
harder than it needs to be.
The memory
that this rut
did not always exist
but needed to be created
eludes us
as it runs,
the same way it has always run.
So hang
a counter-clockwise clock
as a small reminder
that
it does not always
need to be that way.

Spring

As Spring settles
into her beauty
her song begins
to change --
Allegro to Andante.
She walks
hand-in-hand
with the gray
clouds
and long
slow breezes,
kisses you
with chills
in the morning
but loves you
with cool,
cloudless nights.
Only
for you.

The Expected Visit

Spring arrived this morning,
never mind the date.
Crisp air under gray clouds
breaking
just enough
to let sunlight play
its dancing games.
Shadows grow
off budding trees
while
patchwork patterns play
on puddles
where floating
petals spin
then stop,
their tips pointing
like stops on a compass.
Not North
but April.