a grave poem

quick drive

no more than three minutes

quick walk

down to her mother's grave

she goes everyday after school

everyday? everyday.

sometime its a short visit

pluck out a few weeds

a "love you mom"

and home

other times

its a lingering lawn chair sit

a one way graveside monologue

a wave of guilt

when the seeping cold, 

mosquitoes, or a steady drizzle

sends her away

    my brother is dead

    he's resting under a stone lamb

    west of town

    I've never gone

         maybe it is time

dawn poem

light blue morn

time for temple dog walk

slight glimmering rain

to the east a dayspring sun

cutting low over the fields

to the west double rainbow

high in the forest sky

night poem

cold night air

coming in steady

cross temple breeze

rattling doors

waking tired monks

Waits - a quick response

rain and window rattling wind
best to keep sleeping

the Waits records silently spins

 - The Square Corner got me thinking. 

red-tailed hawk

The scene:

 

mated couple of ditch water ducks

flock of geese picking remnant corn

a clutch of turkey hens

The action:

from far above  - a red-tailed hawk

diving down

last microsecond correction

soars past these brother birds

plucks a fat field mouse 

in a quick talon take

requiem for my forest

I don't want to talk about it

it is a hard heavy loss

 - the forest is gone

torn up -  manicured

slopped to drain away the swamp

trails, trees, the little puddle pond

that would freeze for winter skates

today I sit

look out over pools, hot tubs

garage full of beamers

a kid staring back at me

through a black metal fence

trees fall

I'm in the forest

thinking

another tree has fallen

crash smashed

through ancient fence

splintering century old cedar rails

stop  - turn back down the trail

out behind the shed

stack of forgotten rails

carry them back to the forest

shore up what is broken