Love Is

Sometimes love looks like a middle aged 

guy in boxers doing dishes by hand

in a cold kitchen at 5:30 AM.

Teeth of Night

Pine trees along the ridge

jagged against darkening blue 

like a vintage crosscut saw

mounted over the woodshed door.

Runoff

The brown creek

snow fed, rain swollen 

gallops into the pasture

tossing it’s white mane

races round the bend

under the footbridge

away.

Honey Dew?

I’m paused out in the front yard 

verbally running over my chores: 

“Bird feeders filled

cat food out

compost out

firewood in...”

Husband on his way from truck to shop calls, 

“What’s that?”

“Nothing - just going over my checklist.”

“OK.  I was just checking to see 

if it was a Chuck list!”

American Goldfinch

Dim drizzley dawn,

under the bird feeder

two zots of yellow.

Nest Building

Pygmy nuthatch heaves

off the pine forest floor

beak-burdened with something

half it’s own length and 

stutter flies - rapid wings,

glide, stall, rapid wings -

to the hollow aspen knot.

Blue Heeler

The landlord’s loose bitch

dashes snarling

bouncing on rigid legs,

I grip the furled umbrella

shout, lunge

sloshing adrenalin.

Curiosity or Defense?

Today the tiny chipmunk at the concrete pile

has a friend and they are alert to me

the approaching upright animal; 

they dash away to the far end of the ties

then race back.  One comes to the tie end 

nearest me, pauses, little abdomen heaving 

with the flutter of lungs 

or heart (I can’t tell)

twitch-tails and bright-eyes me

then dives out of sight and surfaces fifteen 

feet down the jumble of concrete castoffs.  

I ease along the grassy path beside the heap

six feet beyond I turn to watch 

again one chipmunk scurries boldly near

running behind my heel;  I tilt my head 

searching and it darts away.  Tomorrow

I will bring three or four sunflower seeds, 

not to disrupt their economy, just enough

to show myself a friend.

In  small stone form: 

 

Chipmunk stops to eye me

little abdomen heaving 

with the flutter of lungs 

or heart (I can’t tell.)

Crisscross of Discarded Concrete Railroad Ties

I see: Despicable blot on landscape.

Chipmunk sees: Fortress!

In the Woodstove

Crackly orange scarlet embers

crowned with stubby blue flame.

Sacramental Laundry

Snap the tee shirt flat 

bring it to my heart

fold in this sleeve 

fold in that sleeve

gratitude and well wishing

for growing body and spirit

soon to be clothed 

fold up the bottom

precious son, treasured daughter

peace and blessing forever

let the top fall 

stack with the rest

amen.

Cheerful Mess

Carmine red washcloth

butter yellow tee 

rumpled together on taupe tile.

Through The Pines

Flash of magpie wings

white-white-white-white-white.