Snapshot Poems 2008
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At Sixty
The lilac tree should have grown over the last fifteen years, but a June snow took out a third of it, and it's just now filling out again. The birches died, and have been replaced by young saplings. Spike is slipping away from me, nothing but bones and orange fur and purrs. In this diminishing… Continue reading
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Snapshot Poem 16 April 02008
B — When I walked along the dike tonight there was the smell of ice in the air. Snow brushed the foot of the mountain. The wildlife was quiet – no gossiping geese, no chattering ducks, no beaver splashing into the water to keep pace with me. Only the shushing of the river, and a… Continue reading
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Snapshot Poem 26 March 02008
It's spring again. The garden knows it. From beneath, green and purple leaves, reaching up. Reaching out. A winter vine climbs the fence. It separates the boards. Strong and woody, it goes where it pleases. In all directions. A Japanese lantern hangs on a steel hook. At night, long winter nights, it warms the garden.… Continue reading
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Snapshot Poem, Spring Equinox
Worm Moon, Crow Moon Crow Moon, tonight you fly at the balance of the year, half light, half dark, tipping your wing toward spring. Crow Moon, caw away this winter, gnaw the last crusts of snow from the frozen garden. Shine the earthworms up to the surface. Worm Moon, Crow Moon, Full Sap Moon, wake… Continue reading
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12 March 02008 – Snapshot Poem
Richard A chilly overcast day. One day unfolds into the next. My brother visits my dreams, one night folding into the next. I think of his long bones, the long bones of his fingers, shards in the ashes. I think of his passion for opera, the depth of his voice, his mind folding one day… Continue reading
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