Catbird on the hammock.
It’s me that’s caught
her eye. 8-1-13
A gentle pendulum,
moves across the rosy sharons
as green as the leaves. 8-1-13
No sun to open the sharons,
hummingbird sits on yesterday’s closed flowers
and pokes with her beak. 8-1-13
moves across the woods
faster than my eye. 8-1-13
Feathered yellow light
holds up two yellow swallowtails
nettled in a swirl. 8-4-13
That red-breasted bird lowers her breast
into last year’s red leaves in the one spot of sun
this cool morning. Rufous-sided towhee. 8-5-13
That squirrel made the forest move.
Bee makes the sharon move.
The gray air makes nothing move. 8-6-13
Sky clouds moving east.
Earth clouds moving west.
Counterpoint before the rain. 8-20-13
Pye weed’s full pink heads.
Will they wait until I
get back? 8-20-13
I don’t know this bird.
Sounds a little like a rufous-sided towhee.
Let’s call him Morning Bird Who Sings in the Sea Air. 8-22-13
Between me and the pond
down there in the dense thicket,
there’s a cottontail and his kin. 8-23-13
When I go away from this balmy shore,
the sea oats will stay and hold my place. 8-23-13
This day belongs to mourning dove.
Repeating, he says so again. 8-25-13
More cicadas than
myrtle blossoms now.
One vibrates in the ear,
the other in the eye. 8-26-13
Nodding into the ground,
puccoon’s last yellow leaves
lean like sleepy pinwheels. 8-26-13
Above the white pines circling—vulture.
He sees me better than I see him and
he wonders about my pen. 9-3-13
The fading rosy lavendar that thinned out green.
That angle of yellow light.
They are all the end of something
the cool air carries away. 9-4-13
Look, there’s a catbird in the holly,
in a circle of sun. He speaks softly.
I hear him. 9-4-13
So many days, books and libraries
soak up the hours. What choice?
No choice. 9-11-13
Four geese overhead make an arm of a V.
They talk about it. 9-11-13
I’m feeling a little like columbine today,
yellowed and browned by the difficult summer.
Still upright on its stems, it is, though. 9-12-13
A round robin
of three families of noisy crows—
a circlet of crows? 9-14-13
Sieboldii’s one pink flower has a friend.
And it has a mouth.
Well, a flower mouth. 10-31-13
Yellow sassafras and
cinnamon myrtle dance—
dark light, dark light, dark light. 10-31-13
I wrote it. I sent it. No surprise.
Let it be real in spite of everything. 11-10-13
Whose oak leaf fell in my hair?
A gift, a spinning gift
for the turning moment. 11-10-13