Don't judge a book by its cover.
It could be hollowed out
In the shape of a gun
To hold one
Undetected
Or
On an old man's bookshelf
Still the hollow shape
Of a gun
Filled with wrapped candy
A stash
Protected from his wife

At a new home, warm air and sun bring forth random daffodils

Late snow falls through warm air landing on young daffodils, doomed

The rose in vase can't see snow outside
for the rose in the vase...
however radiant,
beautiful....
Is still dead.

The last snow grabs at new green shoots, indifferent crocus awaken

An old green motel chair
sits on a flagstone porch
overlooking a lake
and a gap in the mountains
the center of which frames
another peak.
The chair has outlived
three generations
of my family
who are drawn here
to this spot
in West Virginia
where a mountain is reflected,
mirrored in fact,
in the lake
created by my great-grandfather
for that very purpose.

I tend
to be
a short form
kind of guy