I flew through an open window
Into the open air
Lit in a friendly tree
And sang my song from there

Then I flew to a telephone wire
And sat out in the sun
Some birds of a feather joined me
And we flew off as one

We went to a park where kind souls
Scattered corn and crumbs on the lawn
We landed and ate what we wanted
Then took to the sky and were gone

We met up with a warm south wind
That buoyed us in our flight
And held us in its gentle arms
All day, into the night

Time travel exists
Only where time can exist
That is in your mind

Yellow butterfly
There is nothing in your mind
But endless summer

A feathery snowflake
Falls in your hair
And quickly disappears

When I die
I'll sleep like a bear
For billions and billions of years

Maybe someday I'll be back this way
(Some say that someday I may)
But maybe that someday
Is eons away
I'm glad we're together --today

March at last is here
Sun gets higher, winter ebbs
Streams from melting snow

In February,
Late day light clings to the snow
Reluctant to go

Watching trees  dancing
Wrapped in the arms of the wind...
What are they thinking?

Early Spring begins with the Vernal Equinox
and lasts until April 8th, the day I was born.
April 8th is the first day of Mid-Spring, which we love
until May 14th, when the leaves are almost full
on the trees.  May 14th is the first day of Late Spring,
which totally delights us until the final minute of
June 9th has passed.  Then comes June 10th and
Early Summer.  The water in the brooks gets lower
and warmer.  The sun reaches its highest point
in the sky.  Early Summer ends on the 4th of July;
then come the seemingly endless days of Mid-
Summer.  They hold memories of childhood and
a kind of timelessness.  Mid-Summer is over on
August 7, the day my friend had his annual birthday
party after Little League was over.  In Late Summer, the
Winter we couldn't imagine in July seems to be edging
nearer.  The first day of Early Fall is the day after
Labor Day.  We went back to school then, and the
leaves had already started to turn.  On the second
Monday of October, Mid-Fall begins.  The tamaracks
are yellow, the crickets are silent, things are very still,
everything seems to be waiting for the snow.  On the
day after Halloween, Late Fall Begins.  We hope our
fire-wood is dry enough; we get the snow removal
tools ready, and maybe even have to use them.  This
short season ends the Friday after Thanksgiving.  Then
we are into Early Winter.  The sun sets very early, we
can see our breath in the morning.  The dark time has
begun, but the days pass quickly, as the holidays brighten
our spirits.  Mid-Winter begins on December 26.  Now,
the darkness presses against our windows at dinner time.
Glasses of wine and candle light are the best defenses.  We
press on through January, talking about our garden and
keeping the house neat.  Then comes Valentine's Day, the
first day of Late Winter.  Each day is noticeably longer.
We start to wonder what Spring and Summer will be like.
On some days the snow melts, and we see little streams
running along the sidewalks.  The sun climbs higher in the
sky, and we REJOICE!

Early autumn leaves
They remind me of myself
Oh, those changing leaves!

Is the song I hear
From leaves I watch flickering
Or from your guitar?

It tears me apart
To see summer's leaves fading
Nature on its knees

Summer's getting gone
Like my other summers, gone
Gone where summers go

Music can't save me
Wine very low in my glass
Emptiness at last

Air filled with bird-songs
At dawn, this last day of June
T'will be winter soon

Clouds drifting along
Like they do while I'm living
And will when I'm gone

All of these trees used to be people,
With people thoughts and
People feelings.  
As I see them today,
They have tree thoughts and
Tree feelings.

At some different time and
In some different place,
They will all be people again,
With people thoughts and
People feelings


'

I like spring snowflakes
At least a million times more
Than those in autumn

Spring settled on us
Like a gentle mother hen
On her nest of eggs

A river of blue
Flows through a valley of clouds
In the springtime sky

So many people
That I'll never see again
Enemies and friends

The winter sand that still remains
Along the walks and street
Makes a sweet, seductive sound
Underneath my feet
Like a lover clears her throat,
When about to speak

Snow, snow and more snow
Keeps on snowing and blowing
The wind is so cold...

Some people think
The human race
And this world
End at the very same time

But for billions of years
This world spun without us
And without us again
It might do just fine

I flew out an open window
And into the open air
Lit in a friendly tree
And sang my song from there

Then I flew to a telephone wire
And sat out in the sun
Some birds of a feather joined me
And we flew off as one

We went to a park where kind souls
Left corn and crumbs on the lawn
We came down and ate what we wanted
Then took to the sky and were gone

We met with a warm south wind
That buoyed us in our flight
And held us in its gentle arms
All day, into the night

Use your spoon,
Dig a pond in the middle,
Fill it with milk, then
Little by little,
Eat from the center
Out toward the bowl's rim,
As the milk goes down
Pour a little more in...

When you get to the border
Your oatmeal is gone
Your hunger is history
And so is the pond

I hear the wind rumbling,
Rumbling away
Towards where its going
From where it came
Drives its shoulders
Up under the eaves
Tries to get in
Then eventually leaves
Pounds with its fists
On the roof and siding
But they keep it out
From where I'm abiding
Hums like a bee swarm
Courting the queen
Then changes its tune
In the window screen
A lull, then its back
Renewing its force
Its voices a screeching,
Howling chorus

Some of the leaves have turned
To a perfect, Popsicle orange
While some are drenched in purple
Like a sad cleric that mourns
The hills are dressed in brightest yellow
Like flashbulbs going off
And varied reddish lipstick shades
Some fiery, and some soft
Coppers I see, like an old tea kettle
Or suntans on the beach
And mauve, ah sensuous mauve,
Like the skin of a ripened peach

I'm standing where I admired the leaves
As a child way back when
The colors, I think, must still be the same,
But they look different now than they did then

The grass is damp with
The morning dew, like her hair
After a shampoo

She studies her oatmeal with brown eyes
Pokes at it with her spoon
Makes valleys and ridges
Then smooths them
Thinks it must last her 'til noon.
She lifts a small, rounded bite to her lips
That disappears into her mouth
Like a tourist boarding an airplane
Headed for someplace down south.
She moves her jaw slowly,
Stares into space
Finally, she swallows it down.
Then back to her bowl
The spoon returns
And back to her face, a frown.

Christmases future:
How will they remember me
When I'm here no more?

Don't overweight your inhibitions
Take advantage of
Favorable conditions

Make ice when it's cold
Sell ice when it's hot
That's the best advice I've got

A feathery snowflake
Falls in your hair
And quickly disappears

When I die
I'll sleep like a bear
For billions and billions of years

Maybe someday I'll be back this way
(Some say that someday I may)
But maybe that someday is eons away
I'm glad we're together
Today

Winds rush through the pines
Sun breaks through the clouds and shines
Presents for our minds

The trains run all night
Every night, every season
Hauling their freight
Through the city
Sometimes they wake me
I lie there and listen
Not even feeling sleepy

On and on those horses roll
Incessantly on their tracks
Rolling and rolling
And rolling and rolling
They carry my thoughts
On their backs...

Up here, Thanksgiving
Is the day between late fall
And early winter

Wet snow descending
Ghostly pines, great boughs bending
Autumn is ending

I like your edge
You lay it out
You say it straight
And you don't hedge

And I like to watch
Your expressions change
From sweet to sour
From sour to sweet
From sunny to dark
Then back again,
Like cloud shadows moving
On distant mountains...
Sun then shadow
Then sun again...
Oh, how I love your
Changing expressions!

But even more I like your edge
You say it straight
You lay it out
Without a doubt
And you don't hedge

Large, gentle snowflakes
Float slowly in freezing air
Under slate-gray skies

From a distant garden
I hear her murmuring
Like a clear spring
Flowing over smooth pebbles,
Through sun and shadows,
Under leaves and needles.
I hear her voice, not what she says,
Her sound, but not her words:
I hear what's left of her words and what came before--
Semi words, undefined, like ***** of cotton
Shaped like drifting clouds
Like the sound the curtains make
When the wind blows in,
Or the sound a fly makes
Buzzing on a screen.
Woolly, fuzzy, smoky half-words
Rub my ears like kitten's fur and move on
Like tiny tumbleweeds with no special destination.
Comforting not to be alone:
In the silence that defines everything
So good not to be alone.

Truth be told
The old songs sound
Very, very old

Songs in moss
Are what come across
When I hear them play

Distant voices
Might bring to mind
Young love or a rainy day

But they seem covered with dust
Like silent nicknacks
On an old shelf

Or faded like pictures
Forever displayed
In halls inside of myself

I went to a restaurant one time
With a chain-smoking woman
And spent every dime,
Going through four-hundred dollars or more.
She died, maybe cancer, I'm not sure.
In town they all talked about my stash--
Everyone said I had so much cash--
But I had barely enough to survive
With just a little left over to buy
Cider and doughnuts for kids' trick-or-treat.
After that, the long winter set in
With too little food and not enough heat.

One morning at sunrise,
I walked the beach
Looking for shells.

High on the bank,
Where no wave could reach,
An old man watched intently.

After a while
He gestured with his hand,
Calling me to him.

"You have many lives to live,"
He said (in a strange accent)
As he picked up a handful of sand
And let it run back to the ground
Through his fingers.

"That's a lot of lives", I said,
Watching the last of it fall
And trying not to look afraid.

"Not the sand in my hand," he said,
"The sand on the beach."
He extended his arms,
Raised his eyes,
Then vanished
Before I could speak.

In this late season
I  cannot embrace the things
I loved in the spring

After Halloween
November and December
Go by in a flash

The grass is tall
The grass is small
Back and forth
Back and forth
Back and forth I go

Mow, mow, mow
Mow, mow, mow

I hear the mower's motor
It cuts grass with its rotor

Mow, mow, mow
Mow, mow, mow

I'm trying to thin up a poem
As I'm walking along

I love the smell of fresh cut grass
As I'm mowing the lawn

"There's always next year"
Doesn't mean what it used to
Now that I am old

Early morning snow
On the first of October
Nineteen sixty-two

Imagine yourself
Absent all self-awareness
But fully conscious

We are the sunset
Love-flung to the sky
Glowing,
Embracing,
Lost in each other,
Looking back
On the world.

I have to stand somewhere
Until I find
A good place I can stand.
I really don't like shifting sand
Or muck that you sink into.
Isn't it much the same for you,
Looking for firm ground
As you're on the move?

And I have to hang onto something
Until something comes along
That I can really hang onto.
Isn't it similar for you,
Clinging to one thing
(The very best yet)
Until something else comes through?  

And I must find someone I can trust
Until someone comes along
Who I can really trust.
Leaps of faith I've made a few,
Landed hard and changed my view.
Isn't it sort of lie that for you?
Looking for the truth
As you're passing through?