Black raspberries ripen wild at creek's edge my eyes close, lips tingle to memories of brimming backyard bushes.
These untended berry-gems hide tiny behind stickers beyond reach. I bend the canes to mine the ready flesh
lest deer or songbirds steal the pear-fed coyote plunder. At day's end, red-lipped,
I leave a fruit or two of untamed sweetness like words that stray from verses and still are pearls. Harbingers
The first spring birdsong cuts diamond sharp through morning's misty start reflects Onkel Martin's memory: how the first whistled tune since war's end rose above jagged rubble woke from smoke-gray dreams All Brains and Thumbs
an arched branch fell with the first winter storm, now anchored by inch after inch of snow'a cardinal's perch where he awaits a place at the feeder, keeps clenched claws dry
if only I, with my brain-stuffed skull and opposable thumbs could grasp at chance as firmly as he Late Afternoon Cypress
Just now the sun caught the crown of the cypress. Branches wear bronze coins bold against untroubled bluet sky, glint and lilt with the breeze, taunt my eyes like a lost memory mocks my mind.
Her Flight or Mine?
I stand in awe of the shell-bound gosling whose feathers might fly her ungainly shape over peak-trimmed lakes that await her call or stuff a comforter with enough loft to incubate my dreams in a fifty-degree room so I can trek mountains or spin in pirouette
On a Country Road in Spring
songbird's urgent search for love airy dance step atop grounded pole riff reiterates eyes and ears rivet on lust-filled trills