Some made oft' with William's skull-
Richard's feet in shallows, grave;
forced to lay a crooked neck-knave
by Will's deliberate quill and mull.

You'd think these men of infinite rest
would sate our time to jaw-bone
about cruel pranks and kingly jests
before alls' fate to join prone.

We raise a cup to toast our dead
though throw them in like baggage
and bide through age unfinished dreads
before ourselves are fed to maggots.

-cec

Canada's Loonie
Royal coin
Gavidae in hand

-cec

Where do birds go at night?
When winter's silent furies
turn Hawthorns white,
cotton light on ground and grade.

Where do birds sleep till dawn
while pillowing clouds, twice height,
slumber across this evening sky.

Where do birds go to dream?
Swirling, feathered flurries,
to shiver off frostbite extreme.

Then upon a morning light
to round and wakeful nigh
with muffled wings burst into flight
tree branch waved goodbye.

-cec

Each day to live as though a last
sounds a crystal wind chime's blast

Moments, atom grains of silica and lead
melt into hour's memories bliss bled

Humbled into submissive psalms of love
dragging homeward bound this bag of bones

Alone, only in this day of next reflect
how imposing polished this mirror's affect

Soon to lay among stars and worms
perchance to dream a rooster's morning turn

-cec

Your instrument strung with souls
awaits this bow of resiny hair tension
swept across with angel's biting lip
each note suspended in longing cries
weeping joys and sorrow's marrow
impassioned with untimely haste
reminded; a fleeting, squealing, sweetness

-cec

Beetles laid a nest of onion seeds
sprouting generations of wiggling tear drops
all metallic green with a daffodil hunger --
maybe it was spring's cold to feed

-cec