I, too, have seen the darkest dark, shining
Iridescent like a raven’s feather
In the sun. I have felt the untwining

Of my mind, stormwracked by psychic weather,
And I have tried to laugh it all away
Faking that I’m keeping it together.

So often the ones we thought were OK
The ones who helped us laugh and sing and drink . . .
So often the one thing they needed to say

Never got said or got said with a wink.
Listen closely. Watch closely. It is there:
A welling tear can be erased with a blink.

I blink, you blink, we all blink; what’s more rare
Is the unblinking gaze on both foul and fair.

six beads of water
spaced along the shallow fold
of a green grass blade

Old snow
with some life
left to it
rearranges itself
outside: circling
like a thin
white dog.
Finding a spot
out of the wind,
it settles.

Here by the hearth
where my dog curled
for so many years,
his apparition appears
then melts.