March 2017

 Abba, Abba — 
a baba tagging God
with quatrains


the light
her words on tiptoes
grasping it


last light
"fiat nox" rustles
in the hedge


almost being 
in the trees


where light was
a chiaroscuro
of presence


"autumn dusk"
not this one of words
but the other

windswept rain 
everyone I pass
another self


the child I was 
singsongs the silence
still to come


my footprint
soled, souled, sold
silting up



at the root
of its tail

the mouse's long
and sad tale
thins out at its end


here and now

poets crafting haiku
of blossoms and the moon

while before our eyes
one falls to extinction
one is lost to smog



in Bloom

at the end
of words


Lent begins
the autumnal light
turns ashen






dandler of dreams
a glowworm



darkening scent
crickets swell the night
with sweet nothings


autumn keening in my bones