Poem Category: Spring

In the fish pond
no moon to float
the moth’s flutter.

Candles and wine
the white glove moon
on her ring-less hand.

Moonlit walk …
in the strands of your hair
spider threads.

The tip-toe tot
now knowing
roses make her sneeze.

Street cafe’
my daughter and I talking
in a newspaper wind.

Sunset on the sea
little specks of geese
as souls migrate.

Rustled garden
clouds corral
the sunspots.

Ebbing with
the tides of sleep
Sunday lay-in.

Express trains
the thinness of the weeds
in the platform cracks.

Sudden red light
the wail of an ice-cream
hitting the car floor.