March 2017

autumn keening in my bones

darkening scent
crickets swell the night
with sweet nothings

dandler of dreams
a glowworm
preys

Lent begins
the autumnal light
turns ashen

yes

Penelope
in Bloom

breathless
at the end
of words

here and now

poets crafting haiku
of blossoms and the moon

while before our eyes
one falls to extinction
one is lost to smog

beginning

at the root
of its tail

the mouse's long
and sad tale
thins out at its end

my footprint
soled, souled, sold
silting up

the child I was 
singsongs the silence
still to come

windswept rain 
everyone I pass
another self

"autumn dusk"
not this one of words
but the other

where light was
a chiaroscuro
of presence

almost being 
autumn
in the trees

last light
"fiat nox" rustles
in the hedge

the light
her words on tiptoes
grasping it

 Abba, Abba — 
a baba tagging God
with quatrains