Poem Category: Miscellaneous

Winter is all white
no sound
but the tin roof shrinking.

Winter morning
the inching of a snake
out to the sun.

Midnight rain
the holes crows make
moving in the trees.

Harvest
a row of cabbage heads
pops out of the fog.

Late night radio
the lace curtains blown in
as moonlight.

Old school rooms
the little sound of a boy
attending quietly.

Winter storm
night collects
behind father’s urn.

After school
grandfather behind
the to and fro of her swing.

At drought’s end
moonlight
from the spilling dam.

Fresh from the oven
our peach-apple pie
in the soft window breeze.