The leaves had fallen in the grove,
Red, pale yellow, copper and mauve;
I raked them up in a heaping pile,
Then leaned upon the rake a while
To contemplate my work--
Joy and sorrow, pleasure and strife--
A pile of leaves, the days of my life.

I thought I might not last 'til spring:
If only I could sleep the season
Curled up like a leaf;
When the snow had melted down
I'd come back like a flower,
Bright and joyous, ready to live,
Fresh and new again.  

But now was the time to face the months
That buried things under the snow.
In February just a little ****
Was all you'd see on the floor of the grove:
The leaves would be resting there
While I struggled in the biting air
And snowflakes stung the skin left bare.

But the winter I survived
To find the wild flowers that bloom
Under hardwoods not yet green.
I've had  another spring to roam,
Watched the leaves turn green again
And written down this poem.

On our summer lawn you lie curved,
Like a snake warming in the sun;
When I turn on the spigot at mid-day
How hot thy water doth run!

Sometimes you're hooked to a sprinkler,
Where the kids ran when they were small;
We wonder: where did the time go?
And just can't remember at all.

To our home by the river you came
And reached where the vegetables grew;
You watered them gently all season,
Out back, where the blue heron flew.

Gashed by the mower's cruel blade
You leaked: we thought you were gone:
But I got the parts to save you--
Thank heaven for Aubuchon.

Shorter, old friend, always there,
We still bring you in from the cold
To your special place under the work bench,
To store you in neat coils rolled.

Stretched out full length on the blacktop,
I raise one end towards the sky
And drain the last water inside you
To put you away, safe and dry.

I pray as I wind you in autumn
The dark winter we will survive;
My heart is already yearning
For springtime to come back alive.  

To water our plants on the north side,
To feed the cedar hedge row,
To wash winter sand from the driveway,
Left by the last melting snow.  

So sleep well, companion of years
In your circle there on the floor;
My the freezing days pass us by quickly,
May we join you for one season more.

It was fall when I fell for you
Gazing at hillsides of varied hue,
Red-headed girls in saffron dresses
Coming to give me hugs and kisses,
Moving in droves from outcrops and ridges
Crossing the valleys and brooks without bridges.

You of all were most fair,
Your hair
Piled like clouds at sunrise,
Passion and excitement fierce
Burnt in your gray-blue eyes,
Particles of light aglow
Surrounded you in a mist
That totally enveloped me
Every time we kissed.

Now, you tease me like a breeze
And hear what I don't say
I throw my troubles in your fire:
They're gone
And joy remains.

Sanderlings
Don't use their wings
When waves roll in on the strand:
They beat their retreat
On quick, little feet
Back across the
Sand.

Crickets that chirp all day and all night
Looking for love in their season
Overgrown fields rife with golden rod
The same as they are every year
Earlier sunsets we notice at mid-month
(Wonder where the summer went)
Cool mornings with fog
Still air with familiar scents
Bats from behind shutters
Pursue their flights at dusk
(If only we could fly with them)
Apples fall from trees, soft, little thuds,
Remind us of other late summers, and of gravity
Migrating birds eat honeysuckle berries
While a monarch spreads her wings
On white phlox

She comes from the grill
Wearing her blue, happy chef, skull cap
Raising, on palms outstretched,
Two plates stacked with pancakes
Steaming, round and golden,
To set them, dramatically, on "the line"
For one of the wait staff to pick up.
After that, she looks out at the people
And smiles for no obvious reason
With a smile that lights up the whole restaurant.
Then she goes back to the grill, grabs her spatula,
And pushes the home fires around...

Every Stan's a "Stan the man",
And every Eddie's a "Steady Eddie",
Every Hanna's a "Hanna banana",
And every Tammy's a "Tammy whammy".

I'm not sure where these names come from
Or why some people make rhymes with them--
It seems to be quite widely done,
Maybe that's because rhyming's fun.

He died on Friday
The cars keep rushing on by
Rest in peace my friend

in cool piney shade
on squat bushes spread
wild blueberries grow
on soft, mossy bed

or under the ferns
among meadowsweet
on berms in the sun
but sheltered from heat

or on a bush rising
almost to my waist
so loaded with berries
it bends down and sways

I'm picking them
plump and cool with the dew
in dappled sun under the pines
morning turns into afternoon
I'm losing all sense of time

cicadas' shrillness,
a chorus of crickets,
the red squirrel's noisy chatter,
a crow's voice somehow reminds me of spring,
but time just doesn't matter...

The morning is pushing in
Through a spot where the drapes are parted,
And I'm still lying in bed
With no urge at all to get started.

Meanwhile a spider spins her web
Then steals on silent spider feet
Back to her spot under the eaves
Where she waits for something to eat.

A robin finds a juicy worm
Then flies with it back to her nest
She takes a bite or two for herself
And gives her children the rest.  

A bee is buzzing busily
Gathering nectar for the queen
Back at the hive, he does a dance
Telling the drones where he has been.

Each one acts as nature designed
And that is what shall ensue:
I'll lie here until the dew dries
And think up a poem or two.

I pass the graveyard,
So many souls resting there,
Death I do not fear.

I thought I heard rain,
But it was wind in the trees,
Just the wind...Listen...

I sat on the porch
In front of the house
Watching the flies buzz
Around a dead mouse.
He lay on his side
With tongue sticking out;
They walked on his ribs
And lit on his snout.
His four little legs
Stretched sadly in vain,
Never to run
Through the meadows again.  

How did he feel
When he first met the cat?
I wondered...he lay there,
So stiff on the mat.
Was his reaction a
Squeak of surprise?
Did he see his life flash
In the cat's eyes?
When sharp claws and teeth
Held him like a tomb,
Did he think, maybe somehow,
He'd make it back home?  

Suddenly,
I was approached by a fly
That flew in my face
And lit near my eye.
He seemed self-assured,
Hungry and bold,
Acting like flies have
Since ice has been cold.
I tossed my head back
And shooed him away:
"Little fly", I said,
"Today's not the day.".

Fluffy, white clouds swim overhead,
Dark towards the center, bright at the edge;
Below, a great pine, branches outspread,
Catches the Autumn sun.

"Speak great, billowing pine", I cry,
"And tell us of years gone by!
Standing beside the courthouse,
What have you seen of crime?"

"I've seen the innocent condemned;
I've seen the guilty walking free,
But there's no revelation in that
Why are you questioning me?"

"Wisdom comes with age", I said,
"You've stood in this place so long,
You must know all that we know
And much, much more beyond."

"Law and justice are different species",
The old tree said with a frown,
"But if I tell you how I know that,
Tomorrow they'll cut me down."

Have you ever wanted to do something just once,
Only once and never again, and then have it be as if
You'd never done it at all?

It was summer, like now:
Hot, hazy, sweaty--even in the evening.
The brook ran low, between banks covered with alders,
Overhanging, tall, immense;
The mountains were purple, indefinite through the mist;
The pines looked almost black.
You could smell the summer--scents from the marsh--
Things in their prime--you could hear them,
Tweeting and chirping and buzzing and peeping and croaking,
And barking and hooting:
Dead mid-summer--hot, sticky, buggy.

After the sun set, but before it was dark,
When you can still see, but everything's a different color,
I stood on the old bridge
Where the brook runs under the back road
On its way from the marsh, down through the village,
To the big river and the lake beyond.

I was looking up towards the plateau, trying to lose myself,
When around the bend, banking against the alders,
In formation, like separate missiles shot from different cannons
At the same moment, at the same velocity,
In the same direction
With systems to navigate and turn, elevate and descend, dart,
Follow the stream bed,
And stay exactly the same distance from each other,
Like an entity with an awareness
The no one part could experience,
Came a flight of bats, moving too quickly to count.

They rocketed under the bridge,
Appeared on the other side, raced
Down a straight stretch, veered right
And disappeared with the brook into the meadows
Headed for the dark pines, the rapids and beyond.
You could hear the swish of their wings as they passed
And their high-pitched pings, like the highest notes on a harp.
In a blink they were gone, in their ecstasy flying on,
And I wanted to be them, all of them at once--
Just once.

We walked beneath
Mountains of moving clouds
In fields of flowers new
Horizon to horizon
With sunshine breaking through.

When summer came,
The clouds spoke, saying
"Your love will last forever",
Then they drenched us with rain
And laughed as we ran for cover.  

Autumn rode in
On the evening clouds--
It got chilly all of a sudden;
We could see the silver moon
And the red sun setting.

On the day she left
I watched the clouds drift
Through a sad and lonely sky.
I don't know why they didn't cry,
'Cause I was sad as I could be
From the top of my head
To the soles of my feet.

The big telescope
That orbits the earth
Above the smoke and dust
Saw in space
A galaxy cluster
One billion light years across...

Light goes five point eight
Trillion miles in a year;
A billion times more
Adds nine zeros to that--
A really, really long way,
Do the math.  

Its the largest object ever seen, they said,
And it looked about as big
As a bright bobby pin
On a pretty girl's head--
But its a billion light years across...
What does that say about
Little old us?

In the scheme of it all
We're smaller than small,
But our race we've reason to flatter:
We're intelligent life in a universe
Where size just doesn't matter.

Her ponytail comes arcing out
Like water spurting from a spout.
When her head turns to the left,
On her shoulder right it rests;
When she turns back to mid-line,
It gently touches on her spine.
She walks away, her footstep fades,
It swishes twixt her shoulder blades.

Orange poppies' faces
Now lie sadly on the ground
Time to deadhead them

I slept like a rock on
The floor of the ocean,
Drowned in darkness--
Not needing to breathe,
Not needing to see,
Or hear, or smell or taste
Or feel anything.

I slept lie a rock on the
Floor of the ocean,
No flavor of mint,
No arms around me,
No sight of mountains,
No sound of bird songs,
No aroma of freshly baked bread--
It felt like being dead.

Well lock me in a closet and call me "Captain Jack",
I won't be myself until I get my coffee back

They say it riles up the nerves and makes a person tense
Feeling like you're being pressed while balanced on the fence

But without it life seems dull, everything moves slow,
Things I used to strive for, they interest me no more

I'm mired in inertia, lacking impetus,
Reaching out for nothing, I'm settled like the dust

I'd better brew me up a *** and make it nice and strong
I really need a cuppa joe to help me get along

To send those blahs a-packing and get back once again
To that busy, bustling world, where coffee is my friend...

The ancient one stood on a bank remote
Overlooking a stream,
Where dark at noon the water flowed
In the shade at his feet.
In springtime, when the mayflies rose
To dance their hour of love,
He basked in the joy of new growth
And held the spring in his arms.

When thousands fell at Gettysburg dead
And Custer the hatchet felt on his head,
He felt the sun of summer days
And dreamed of his heaven
In the long, warm evening haze.
His needles were brown
When Kennedy went down;
His boughs bent with snow
Through the winter sleeping
When Russia saw Napoleon retreating,
Men starving, freezing,
Their horses eating.    

In time,
His branches lower swung,
His face bowed to his own reflection,
Unseen, unsung.
One night in winter,
Boughs loaded with snow,
He toppled silently, slow,
Roots tearing frozen soil,
Long branches crushing ice,
Penetrating the stream's muddy bed--
Sprawled, face flattened,
Feeling freezing water,
Finding his end.

Spring's flood rocks the carcass,
Lifts, tugs at limbs submerged,
Sways his trunk so it groans;
Moving water, irresistible force,
Rotates the corpse into a bend,
Shoves it against the bank;
Some limbs splinter, some extend.

In summer he rests on wet sand exposed;
On the bank above, tall marsh grass grows
As one day comes and another one goes.  
Needles fall;
Over years bugs crawl,
Bark disappears, decay advances
Until curved, white branches
Rise like dinosaur bones,
From black water that flows slow,
While mayflies dance their dances,
Silently like snow.

My hoodie is red
I pull it over my head
When I'm cold in bed

My mind is empty
Like an abandoned barn.
I go from room to room
In silence, like a ghost,
Lighter than cobwebs and dust,
Afloat like a small cloud
In the summer sky,
Just drifting, like autumn leaves
On a still pond
Or like a dandelion seed
On almost still air.
My feelings have left me
Like people leaving church,
My memories have faded away,
And no thoughts intrude.
There is nothing but silence.
I am alone with myself,
Like an empty bottle
Or a picture covered with dust.
I am not sure if I heard
That this house was haunted,
I'm not sure if I ever heard that,
But maybe it is.

On the first day of summer
I am a boy on a bicycle
At the top of a long, gradual hill
Looking down the road into the valley,
At the bridge over the creek
And at the gradual hill
Rising up from there.
I wish that the summer
Would last for ever,
And I think that
Maybe it will.
Then, I push off on my bicycle
And begin coasting down the hill,
As happy as I have ever been.

Horizontal ellipses gold
Descend in increasing dimension
Bright red dress
Wide belt of black
Commanding visual attention
Blondness natural
Held in a clip
Bundled at the crown
Of her head
Others drift somewhere
Around the room,
But I focus on her
Instead.

She brings a certain
Atmosphere
A side of elegance
That changes everything
To gold,
And creates an ambiance
That makes me want to
Jump and dance
But I stay calmly in my seat
To order coffee and pancakes,
A steamy stack
Of three

A very, very long time ago
(But not that long by some lights)
Earth was the center of the universe,
The sky was an inverted bowl
And the stars were little gaps
Where the light from heaven shined through.
If you took the world's strongest bow
And shot an arrow up as high as it would go
You might almost reach the heaven
That started just beyond the bowl.
But things are different today
(So learned scientists say):
The stars are not glimpses of celestial light,
But massive ***** of flaming gas;
And if the universe has a center,
It probably is not our little planet;
Even the fastest rocket we ever launched
Moving through space a billion years after this world ends,
Will be no nearer that heaven of yore
Than it was the day it blasted off.

I like the way the sun feels
When it shines on high,
And I like the way it feels
When you feel it shine.
You and I together
Walking in the sun--
Really not like just we two
More like just us one.

I like to hear a bird song
When the spring is new--
A song that's even sweeter
When you hear it too.
When you're happy, I feel glad,
And when you're sad, I'm sad:
I feel the same things you feel
And think the thoughts you've had.

I like to watch the flowers
Nodding on their stems,
And I like the way they look
When you look at them.
I'm in your mind, and you're in mine
Our thoughts and feelings blend:
Seems like we're all swirled up
Like a warm, south wind.

A flitting, spotted butterfly was spotted by a netter
Who grabbed his trusty, fine-meshed net and set about to get her.
She lit upon a lupine new and opened her wings slowly,
He stole up very stealthily, focused upon her solely.
When he came within her reach, he swished out with his net,
But she took off to the sky and filled him with regret.
She flew behind the lilac bush, where he could not see,
And when he spotted her again, she headed for a tree.
She fluttered high above the lawn with him in hot pursuit,
Waving his net wildly, efforts not bearing fruit.
He kept his eyes fixed on her flight as he chased his quarry.
Then something happened suddenly that left him rather sorry:
For on the grass early that morn, the dog had left a pile,
And when I think what happened next, well, I just have to smile.

Each day I watch the ocean swell
Sometimes with hope, sometimes despair;
The ocean's faces ever change
Like the fashions of their hair:

Monday:

Like a waterfall of brown
Through golden culverts flowing--
Sweeps me far away downstream,
Without her ever knowing.

Tuesday:

Rippled clouds at sunrise,
Supple, damp and red,
Combed out, twisted in a braid,
Or just left loose instead.

Wednesday:

Of her black hair a single strand
Sweeter than Midnight's darkest land;
When it lightens up again,
Its sunrise on a beach of sand.

Thursday:

Like golden floss on top of corn,
Silky, curly, fine,
Rising from a thick, black band
Above blue eyes that shine.

Friday:

Whipped up like a hot souffle,
Luxurious, soft, held loose
With ribbons, combs and perfume,
Tempting like a mousse.

Saturday:

Her pony tail we follow,
Like the Christmas star;
Maybe we're not wise men,
But then, maybe we are.

Sunday:

Her hair flew up out the vent
Like a flame,
When we hit an unmarked bump
(Not big).

The top slid shut,
And her hair almost caught,
So I reached up
And pulled it in quick.

From the topmost twig of the tallest tree
A solitary bird sang his song so sweet:
The meaning (if meanings birds can intend)
Could I , mere human, ever comprehend?
Maybe he sang out the joy of his life,
Or maybe he sang to attract a wife.
His little song drifted out far and wide,
Sweet music of the springtime country side.
It passed by my ears and went far beyond,
Across the meadow and over a pond
In which were reflected clouds from above
That moved through the sky like lovers in love.
Soon, from a thicket, a birdsong came back--
The same kind as his, but a different track.
I heard it on air as it made its way
To the bird in the tree, as if to say:
"I hear your voice calling out to me,
And I'm here with you in the top of my tree,"
The first bird replied in a joyous tone,
Elated (I thought) knowing he was not alone.

I read Finnegan's Wake,
The cover
And half the first page;
After that,
I got bogged down
And had to disengage.

Dusk is an old man with a gray cape,
Who walks with a limp and a cane.
Turning on street lights and lights in the windows
Sending the children home from their play.

When they're all safe, he smiles to himself
And hums a soft, little song
That sounds a little like little bugs buzzing
As he hobbles along.

He pauses a while in the trees near the pond,
Waves his cane and stirs up the frogs;
Then he moves on through the outskirts of town,
Along silent gardens and past barking dogs.  

He fixes his gaze upon distant hills,
That fade in a warm, violet mist;
He shakes out his cape--the pine trees turn black,
Dew starts at a flick of his wrist.

He stops by the park to smoke a cigar
That glows as it gets almost dark;
When it goes out, he leaps to the sky
And disappears like a spark.

When we'd figured out
What life here was all about
The asteroid hit

Meet
Meet in paradise
Paradise on earth
Paradise for sure
Sure hot
Sure lay
Lay I say
Lay a table
Table for two
Table to run
Run the town
Running around
Around the parts
Around she goes
Goes crazy
Goes, gone
Gone I tell you
Gone with the wind
Wind of change
Wind blows wild
Wild and crazy
Wild schemes
Schemes well hatched
Schemes of love
Love that song
Love you too
Too-da-loo
Too much
Much appreciated
Much more
More wanted
More he said
Said what
Said and done
Done with you
Done deal baby
Baby cakes
Cakes of wrath
Cakes out walking
Walking tall
Walking large
Large fits all
Large in size
Size it up
Plus this
Plus that
That equals
That

Those days ran by like the rushing water
Roaring over the dam:
I was tangled in your hair
And tangled still I am
In those twisting strands
Pouring over the brink,
Along your neck,
Beyond your shoulders,
Foaming on your back in a mist.
So helpless I, but so willing,
Swept by the currents away.
Now I see your face again
And hear the rushing water roar
And feel what I've always felt
But feel it even more.

Below the falls,
So far downstream,
Near the whirlpool that calls--
You're all I ever wanted,
All I ever wanted at all.
But all I'll ever have to hold
Is this photograph so old:
Time standing still,
And us standing together,
Young forever:
Songbirds in a distant summer,
Way back on that endless river.

I'm watching the wind
Looking for you
I listen for your voice
In the wind
Day after day
I'm searching and hoping
When will it bring you to me?

I'm watching the wind
On the sidewalks
As it moves along
Past the shops
I'm straining to hear
When it swirls in the street
When will it bring you to me

I'm watching the wind
At sunrise
When the light makes shapes
On the wall
I dream of your face
When a breeze stirs the drapes
When will it bring you to me?  

I'm watching the wind
For you hands and expression
Your shoulders your brow
And your walk
To hear what you'll say
When I first hear you speak
Oh! when will it bring you to me?

Just outside her window
Dandelions on spring grass
Scattered like yellow stars
Across a green sky:
Three growing close, curved:
A lover's smile, cruel,
Five together: a friend's hand
Reaching for something
Maybe a wisp of her hair
Because she is crying
Over the ring
He threw in the ocean.

A thick cluster: her new lover,
And a long, twisting line:
The road to his castle.
Beyond that each bloom
A night spent loving each other
Between silky, green sheets
In a room lit by golden candles.
See them?

Then, a small patch with
Flowers arrayed like jewels:
The crown a goddess wears
Who gives eternal youth
And unfading beauty.
My she walk with her forever
On winding, moonlit paths,
May she find love always
In that room of countless candles.

Wind chimes call softly in May,
Like a ******, pure and shy.

In August they ring out her wedding
Across the fields and sky.

Down through September they jingle
Making a love-making sound.

As Autumn wanes, they toll sadly:
Soon she'll be laid in the ground.

We bring them back out in April
When crocuses come alive,

To hear their sweet song in the wind
And know that Spring has arrived.

Waves of sea
Crash against rocks
They roar,
A gray, steel roar:
Wild as the waves
Enduing as the cliffs
My passion

Lying motionless
Silent
Softly breathing
Eyes closed
Seeming inert
But willing
Oh so willing
Sun on the wall
Ice melting from the roof
Coat hangers sliding
Along a metal bar
Water splashing
Things coming alive
But barely
Early in the season
Sounds pajamas make
At the calves
When she's walking
Room to room
Motionless me
So very still
Like water in the sink
Not moving a muscle
Lest the mind go elsewhere

The wall is our world,
The shadow is the sun
We cannot not feel.

The wall is the people we know,
The shadow is our feelings
About them.

The wall is our hearts,
The shadow is the distance
Between them.

The wall is the truth,
The shadow is what we say
About our lives.

The wall is your lips,
The shadow is your breath
Flowing between them.

The wall is the total
Of our experience,
The shadow is my memories of you.

The wall is my body,
The shadow is the dust
It will become.

Snow lies in the woods
Last survivor of winter
Hiding from the sun

I'm an old hermit who tends
A small fire
In a shelter that's built
Of hope and desire.
In summer I ate ripe
Berries and fruits,
Now, its just dry, hardened bread
And some roots
That carry me through
The cold, lonely day
Where everything's gone,
But memories stay.

New love's a smooth and silky cloak,
A light frost cool and sheer,
A gentle, curious garment
I wear when you are near.

Waken first day of summer!
Cast off thy repose,
Come with me in the misty dawn--
Oh, that the sun ne'er rose

To chase the mist from the meadow
And dry the dew from the lawn,
To find us at noon in the garden,
Walking love's path further on....

All the passions of my long life
Are dust in the road behind me,
And all of that precious dust
Was nothing more than foolishness.
The trees around me
Have no names,
And the wind I feel
Blows from no direction.
The river I see is just a river
That stirs no memory,
And I know not where it goes
Nor whence it comes,
And I know not that I know not.
The rapids roar,
But they say nothing,
And I hear nothing,
But the sound they make.
I know the ones I love and loved,
And love comes flowing back to me,
And love is all that matters here,
By this river, under this tree.

In translucent, green, carnival glass with
With curving grooves parallel bottom to top,
Are ***** willows arrayed
On the dining room table.
Angled, in water ensconced, bottoms cut,
Stems press together coming up,
And diverge coming out,
Spreading in all directions, like a spray,
Slanting, tipped towards me and away,
Bead-shaped bumps, furry, gray
On pencil thin branches:
Leafless first life of spring she gathered,
Taking them as a sign
That her father (who had died)
Was looking out for her, and
Setting them upon this table.

And I sit, looking out through them,
Through parted drapes and the frosted window,
Across the porch and over its railings,
Wrought iron, cold, black,
Beyond bare apple trees and bent lilacs,
Over frozen grass, brown and green, leaf-strewn,
Snow-dusted, windswept,
Beyond the split rail fence,
Over rose bushes that look dead
And through stiff maple limbs, crooked, gray,
Dark, desperate arms against a silver sky,
And beyond that, through power lines
And across the road
To the fields and distant hills,
And beyond that, beyond what we know for sure--
Sitting here, wondering what lies beyond that,
Beyond anything we are certain of,
Wondering what the spring and summer will bring:
I wonder, and look to the ***** willows again.

i waken vaguely
to hear the raindrops
dripping, dripping, dripping
in my somnolence
i understand
what they are saying
i see everything
in a different light
i do not think
i just know
i cannot say
there are no words
just sounds
dripping, dripping, dripping
I drift back to sleep

Warm sunshine, snow melts,
Brook roars, exceeding its banks
Spring at last--give thanks

First day of  spring--beauty hidden,
Dressed in matted leaves,
Shabby grasses, browns and greens,
And sand that lies along the street--
I love you most of all,
For at your feet
The days of spring and summer
Stretch further than they ever will.
I love you with a love that clings
Like snowflakes in a sudden squall
To branches with a passion pure,
Turn the world into a bride
Then melt away in warming air.
I love your hair
That comes straight down
Like raindrops in a shower
And your footsteps when I hear them
Dripping from the eaves.  
I love you more than flowers in May,
More than some hot summer day--
So soon you come, so soon you've gone--
An old man wishes you could stay on.