Poem Category: Miscellaneous

I know only
no matter how cute
most turtle young will be food

twilight
in the same time
the sick friend has not phoned

butterfly and mate
stirring the dust
in a sunbeam

leaving divorce court–
the floorboard creak
in those rented rooms

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