butterfly and mate
stirring the dust
in a sunbeam

moon as the lace moves
on the open window…
oh! Laurel is talking

leaving divorce court–
the floorboard creak
in those rented rooms

afternoon picnic–
our canoe shifts
in its mirror

no wind sounds
just the willows dangle in
the lazy river

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