Setting Spring Alight**

Dog and man, leashed by habit,
retrace all the old routes against
a backdrop of calendar pages
ripped clean, carried off by thieving
wind graduated from soft breezes  
once played across fresh baked faces,
recalled when thoughts wander off lead.  
They pause here and there to rub
trace memory from galley proofs of grass,
take in sooty crews of robins, incendiaries
touching down, setting town alight.
One warms to waning desire
to give chase, the other burns
through days as if spring still hung
lightly on his shoulders.

Spring Set Alight

Dog and man, leashed by habit
Trace and retrace against a backdrop of
Calendar pages ripped free, carried
Away in wind building to crescendo
Soft breeze of youth still playing
Across fresh baked faces when thoughts
Wander off lead, pausing here and there
Rubbing trace memory from reborn grass
Taking in a crew of robins, burning embers
Touching down, setting town alight
One warming to waning desire to give
Chase, the other burning through days
As if spring hung lightly on his shoulders.

Guilt

Northbound on the left hand shoulder
Even the most armored pads no match
For the glittering carpet of shattered glass
Pile shot through with steel shard, sharp
Bite of burrowing wire, incongruous
As the blue cow I placed above a yellow
Felt board moon as a child, unsummoned
Memory that galls my brand new passenger
Dour as his spear is sharp, running me through
While I watch the reflection of the dog
Vanish behind the spooling concrete wall

Guilt

Northbound on the left hand shoulder
Even the most armored pads no match
For a glittering carpet of shattered glass
Pile shot through with steel shard, quick
Bite of burrowing wire, incongruous
As the blue cow I placed above a yellow
Felt board moon as a child, a pleasant
Memory that galls my new passenger
Dour as his spear is sharp, prodding me
Again and again as I watch the dog vanish
Behind a sweep of wall in the side view mirror.

Vespers

What were you chanting  
from down the dry well
of our German coffee maker?  

A brusque Gute Nacht masking
the finesse required to defeat
the hinged plastic lid?

Begging bus fare
for the Silk Road
transparent,

even without mornings
bracing first cup.
A caution, then?  

Don’t leave bags unattended?
Know the warning signs of stroke?
Sleep like a baby, use two-step

authentication?
Your cloistered solitude,
fringed bulb of abdomen

whispered tonsure,
solitary choirmaster dwarfed
by cathedral walls

soaring graduated
into heavenly gloom
where I hovered on high,

my nightly routine
to summon The Flood,
deigning to lower

a spoon of salvation
while you wove a gossamer
chorale,  

working
the eight tiny shuttles
of your batons.

Morning Spider

What were you trying to say
from down the dry well
of our German coffee maker?  
A brusque “guten Morgan”,
unworthy of the finesse required
to defeat the hinged plastic lid,
“****** off mate” belying
the English taste for tea,
begging bus fare for the Silk Road
transparent, even without a bracing first cup.
A caution, then?  
Don’t leave bags unattended,
know the warning signs of stroke,
sleep like a baby with two-step
authentication?  
But your solitude, small bare bulb
of abdomen, put me in mind
of a monks tonsure, choirmaster
alone in the apse, dwarfed
by vaulting cathedral walls
soaring seamless into heavenly gloom,
where I hover on high, indifferent
god commanding the flood waters,
bestowing random flies of mercy,
deigning to lower a spoon of salvation
while you weave a gossamer chorale,  
working the tiny shuttles of your batons.

Morning Spider

What were you trying to say
from down the dry well
of the German coffee maker?  
A brusque “guten Morgan”
unworthy of the finesse required
to defeat the hinged plastic lid,
“****** off mate” belying
the English taste for tea,
begging bus fare for the Silk Road
transparent even without a bracing first cup.
A caution, then?  
Don’t leave bags unattended,
know the warning signs of stroke,
sleep like a baby
with two-step authentication?  
Choirmaster alone in the apse,
dwarfed by vaulting cathedral walls
soaring seamless into heavenly gloom,
where I hover on high, indifferent
god commanding flood water, bestowing
the random fly of mercy, deigning
to lower a spoon of salvation
while you weave a gossamer chorale, perhaps,
working the tiny shuttles your batons.