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 
autumn
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


 

beginning

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


 

yes

Penelope
in Bloom

breathless
at the end
of words


 

Lent begins
the autumnal light
turns ashen


 



 


 


 



 

dandler of dreams
a glowworm
preys


 


 

darkening scent
crickets swell the night
with sweet nothings


 

autumn keening in my bones