The Beckoning One evening when the sky was a dark opal blue And the gnarled trees Swayed and bent in the deep wind, The boxwood scented air...

Sabbath I Every moment, in the waning sun is christened with the possibility of rest, with the knowledge that another is worthy of the green’s blessing, with the delight of light...

Meditation Under the Tree I think of you at every moment of the day even if there are others in the world, other wars to fix. It is...

Arcadian Eyes dark eyes reflect smokey flashes from deafening staccato machine guns ...

From The Adirondack Chair When young’uns (poets mostly) say elder They spout it having concluded that anyone over 39 sat a couple of rows back from Sappho in...

WITH ME AND THE STARS No one can tie down the stars in one place, my father said as he explained how the summer constellations were different from...

As Moon Beams Fade The tiger prowls at night, hunting moon beams as its prey. Wandering apparitions sail the darkness, searching for a place to rest. Landing past dawn,...

So Much was Possible Then— ...

A Good Deal I don't like empty vases populating my tiny house but after uploading my listing of the car I came across a blue Ming vase. Not...

Raised architecture of gold leaf Time-gone smoke darkened the possible reflection. Museum light shadows continue to tweak the narrative. Gold demands candlelight. Or maybe candlelight demands...