Category Archives: poems

Poem: Storm Coming

Beneath the general leaden overcast little ragged dark clouds are scudding, as they say, just over the treetops. Something in the calm air, like held breath, has swallows darting all directions in frantic preparation. There is purpose in that sky … Continue reading

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Reading Pablo Neruda

It is a borrowed horse I heel bareback toward the high pass, leaping streams and battering columbine for a view of a hidden valley. The horse tangles his feet, shakes direction out of his mane, his neck a muscular question … Continue reading

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Deer flies

The clover and the sandburs make their peace with deer flies with a sip of sweet nectar and some pollen to carry to the neighbor. The swallows thrive on flies, touching each in mid-air like the tip of a whip. … Continue reading

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October Cider

The light breeze curls up in the gentle sun and catnaps while we chatter in the orchard. Last March I met this day or its twin sister. Cooler than some days, warmer than some others, it played the referee when … Continue reading

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Under the sun

Every time I’ve written a poem — Starting to think it’s good — Emily D — has already said it better than I ever could —

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haiku #19

Morning after rain catbird in the sycamore invisible, sings

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Families

The coppery Thrasher and the modest Catbird and the Mockingbird that carries the family name from the gravel to the treetops flashing its white-banded coat of arms are poets in the same aristocratic style with more or less extravagance The … Continue reading

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BWS

for Trayvon Martin — R.I.P‎. you gotta fight back, I say you gotta attack cause you got no buddies who got your back you can’t relax, can’t wait for the facts can’t take a chance when he starts to make … Continue reading

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Fakespeare

Okay, this takes a bit of chutzpah. Recently I started thinking about writing a story about someone who finds a lost Shakespeare sonnet in an inherited trunk of old papers. That was several weeks ago. I haven’t written the story … Continue reading

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Across Main Street

This could be a ghost town. I sit on a white bench before the main street store, which is closed. No one in sight. They’ve left the aeration fans silent at the grain elevator, abandoning this wide street to echoing … Continue reading

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