Late October,
and they have assuredly returned.

A canopy of clusters.

At second glance
the leaves on the trees are wings.

Whisper into the dreamscape
for they sense your voice.

Revive them with your breath.

Hold out your hand
like you hold out hope.

The warm sound of flutterings.

Circadian clocks in their antennae,
a sense of where they've been
and where they are going.

The gift from their Creator
moves them in the right direction.

it’s easy to miss the juncos’ slow, sudden departure in spring;
messengers from colder warming worlds

they arrive a dulling autumn:
peppering notations of life in a landscape encased,
each deep dark demitasse
brewed on increasingly tardy dawns
painting a night sky inverted

standing ankle deep in first snows
searching for leftover springs beneath the detritus

but then they finally emerge with the warblers,
orioles, robins, and buntings

and pointillism fades beneath impressionist palettes
that flash over treetops and underbrush

but the last juncos linger:
quiet familiar trills outside my window each morning
disrupting stillness till it disappears

Romance it was,
when I thought
that in this country
I would feel at home.

When I boarded that plane,
headed for the future.
A promising future,
full of trials
and many successes.

I crossed borders,
both physical and emotional.

I never thought my life
would fit into a suitcase.

In my suitcase,
only a few clothes,
but filled with everything
that pushed me forward.

The rest was in my mind:
the embrace of my mother and father.
Will this be the last time I see them?

Longing and nostalgia,
a feeling in my chest.

I don’t know if it’s sadness or love,
pride for doing
what many cannot,
and yet, I dare.

Now I find myself here,
I am the different one,
the one who speaks with an accent.

Strong in life,
wondering what I’m doing here,
searching for my path.

Not for an earthly purpose,
but because the universe
needs me here.

It seems like a terrestrial journey,
but it is an astral journey
to another reality.

Many times I cry,
other times I comfort myself.
I am no longer from here,
but neither from there.

When I say,
"I am from the world,"
I find myself.

I want to express my indefinite joy
that you've settled indefinitely.
Joy that needs no further permission.
Joy that carries no expiration. 

You and yours are definitely loved.
You and yours are definitely valued. 
And you are all definitely welcome. 
Indefinitely.

'pup' is sad and so says
i point out a 'v' of exit geese against the sky
says he's not sad anymore and he's not
a child's power  just like that

Oh, how she calls to me!
My native land, land of highlanders,
and epics of bygone eras
Take me back to those accursed mountains,
and those flatlands where the farmers do produce their yield.

The day after my Aunt Ro died
a doe approached within a few feet
as if confused about where she was
and what she should be doing.
I could neither comfort nor advise her.
I let her be not considering until later maybe
I had witnessed the transmigration of a soul.
But in the end I applied Ockham’s razor—

you rarely see what you believe.
A mile further along my morning stroll
I was greeted cheerfully by a flock
of cedar waxwings I always consider it a blessing
to encounter. Such social, amiable beings
I hope Aunt Ro will join, so sure are they of who they are—

Buzzing everywhere,

the oasis full of bees --


All flowers empty.

After today's four steps
I'm sitting in socks by the fireplace
My heavy boots are standing straight
and my back is still rattling

I am a henchman
I push the boundaries
of the ladies in love
and the rich gentlemen

I leave horse **** behind
and take the scent of freesias with me
The water in the bucket sloshes
like yearning love

I don't travel alone
We are armed
The papers are precious
Sealed letters

Beginning and maintaining
of relationships and major interests
Between the stops, the reins
of fate are in my hands