waking from a dream
of combing through
forgotten files
with neatly labeled folders

under “warblers”
I found a cellophane
envelope enfolding
a black and white bird

I opened the envelope
and the bird awoke
fluffing its feathers
in a cloud of dust

I offered
an outstretched
palm of seeds
which the bird ignored

hopping onto my finger
it glanced out the window
and sang -
forget the seeds

forget my name
open the window
- which I did
and it flew away

Tom Spencer © 2018

day after gloomy day
black and gray clouds

smudge and smear the sky
rain followed by mist

and then more rain
the streams are choked

with mud and debris
autumn grasses bow down

in sodden ranks
water drips from trees and eaves

just a few weeks ago
the earth was cracking

confused by the change
redbuds are blooming

and amid the tangle
of mottled leaves and

slick black branches  
plum blossoms are opening

I lean in trying to detect
the lush fragrance

but the sky opens up again
and I splash back through the garden

my clothes are soaked through
spring will have to wait


Tom Spencer © 2018

pulling back the covers
dimming the lights

an owl calls
from the holly tree

just outside
of my window

the garden below
has grown beyond my control

weeds sprout vines tangle
in the summer squirrels gnaw

on the green holly berries
littering the courtyard

with half-eaten haws
in the spring mockingbirds

gorge on the bright red fruit
their florid songs

celebrating
light sky life sun leaf air

closing my eyes
I think back through the decades

to when I planted the tree
it was a time of hope

a time when we dared dream
of a world without

mortal enemies
when you could imagine

shaded islands of calm
hidden coves immune to rancor

now look at us
heads down lost hurtling

stumbling
under a trance

we have turned on one other
distracted by those

who grab wealth and power
under the cover of night

confused by the constant
trumpeting and alarms

blind to what we share
we retreat

into the darkness
of our fears

Tom Spencer © 2018

temple garden
pebble waves break
against islands of
moss and stone
pink cherry petals
drift on the tide

Tom Spencer © 2018

contrail slash
glows above the clouds
one moment kite string thin
next blurred by the wind

Tom Spencer © 2018

early autumn
a stiff north breeze

sweeps away
the oppressive heat

two crows
are nestled down

in the swaying leaves
below my window

beak touching beak
a brief inkling

of intimacy
before they rise

one after the other
strapping black wings

straining
then sailing

two exultant caws
cast into the wind

Tom Spencer © 2018

cloud mountains
rise above the plains

a veil of gray
sweeps the horizon

wind brings
the scent of rain

cars rush past
heading for the city

breathe in deeply
just plowed soil

just mowed field
listen

distant thunder
insect rattle

grass rustling
cars roaring

we live in troubled times
blind unbound

deaf to calm
solicitation

time's relentless
propulsion and hissing

churning pressing
my family is waiting

I turn back to my car
both sated and shaken

reminded to breathe
to see to be filled

even for a moment
to be grateful

that grass and field
soil and wind

and gauzy far-off rain
will defy our clamor

and complaint
and will remain


Tom Spencer © 2018