Poem Category: Miscellaneous

afternoon picnic–
our canoe shifts
in its mirror

wheat fields
waving in the oceans
of a breeze

holding the trickle
cupped in hands–
the sweet brook

home-made kite
still trailing string
on my back yard lawn

chain-sawing trees
should fall closer
to slap your face

red curtains close…
the death scene’s
last singer

in the time it takes
the seeds must find
the answer

even walks to school
across the park
on the crunches of autumn

streaks of dawn
on a reed in frost the butterfly
knows no beauty

Blockbuster…
quieter
in the credits