The calm of a frozen white
just barely gone….
when comes again, with warmth,
that buzz in nuisances.
Familiar irritant … diminutive clouds
in sputters and rumblings,
like an old Vespa
down a cobbled lane,
…… as earful, chaos
comes with Spring.

The cherry has burst into pink
and all is noise
‘bout its blossoming.
Unraveled strands off sunbeams
chase thru spreading limbs
gather into rays
as feathered things
awake. Unfurling green
trembles in play to flit and frisk
a tint on varied plumes
their array of chitter…a rapid pluck
to high-strung strings
on violins…. echos…
….comic …

Free Verse

“The business of words keeps me awake…”
ㅤ ~Anne Sexton

Falling soft, at the back
of an old daydream
forgotten sound of the milkman

whistling, as he often did,
while bottles rattled ㅤan early day, waking.

I loved his son ㅤonce
before war claimed too much of his whole.
Lithium and Thorazine
taking ㅤa little more.

How well I’ve known the orneriness
in truthㅤit rarely sleeps (wasn’t meant to)
learned quieted hungers hingeㅤstubbornly
upon this heartㅤ like parables.

I eat the day ㅤbefore it’s sunlight
mending… always mending.
Sit to write ㅤ as the world burns, somewhere
ear tilted to nearest birdsong. ㅤ…

Free Verse Poetry

The Fast road
took more away from
then ever toward
this place;
the biggest trucks over iron-rails
resonating/
dangle in voids
as distant rain.

She watched it slope
like lazy tail on an ol’ yeller dog
tucking itself along the falling gray.
An evening heat
thick with rhythm of crickets
(& occasional frog)
rode on a Texas-humid/ㅤslow,
slender roll
in tendrils over her sill
Tempie sprawledㅤall gangly limbs
toes inert but anxious for rain
rested weary Atlas
supporting her open window.

Sylphlike
lamped in lunar wan
long-shadow girl
against the rage by summer
bare feet waiting
wet promise in peal…