Dim, humid day. Ominous.
The sweet autumn clematis
did not survive winter.Bruising photographs, naked
prisoners hooded and taunted
by pretty young soldiers.Full moon over Mount Sentinel;
the garden rich with scent,
palpable, tangible.Two sparrows dance for each other
on the wood fence, bobbing over
and underthe greening vines, cheeping and tail-
fanning. A friend tells me we are all
sadists, all carnivores.Bears are coming back down.
The bleeding heart goes on
blooming in the shade.
I post this with some reluctance; but I promised myself that I would write a "snapshot" every Wednesday, and post it. This is not a poem yet, and I know it. It needs to make some leap that I am, at the moment, unable to accomplish.
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