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Category: Poems

  • Thinking of My Friend at Dusk

    Thinking of My Friend at Dusk

    If you were here, I would say to you, Look!Look through the window at that cloud, the way it puffs joyfully up, glowing rose-gold abovewith its lavender underbelly, how its purple is reflected on the snowy rooftop, and the sky, how it glows, too, nursery blue and pink,as if the clouds teach it to soften…

  • A Congregation of Robins

    A Congregation of Robins

    My dog and I took a walk in the snow today. He frolicked and danced– but we both paused whenwe saw them: dozens and dozens of robins congregating nearby, alighting on trees and bushes and rooftops,sipping water from a puddle, flying back and forth from one perch to another,their little orange breasts puffed up, but…

  • You, the Universe

    You, the Universe

    If you lay on the ground,a mirror to the night sky,the entire Milky Wayreflected on your skin,I would kiss every staron your surfaceand make love to the universe.

  • My Body is Full of Waiting

    My Body is Full of Waiting

    My body is full of waitingThat heaviness in my chestIs it autumn—?The falling, the dying, the preparingLike squirrels bulking upwhile their arboreal homes slim downAn exchange of energyA filling up and letting go—Something good will come And take my place

  • Mary

    Mary

    I’d like to lie down next to heron a giant quilt–the kindmade by an Appalachian grandmotherwith twisted fingers and knuckles like walnuts–and listen to her read aloudfrom her collectionor speak to me softlyof what she had found in the forestthat day as she wandered.I imagine her voice now crackleslike a forgotten recorddusted off and laid…

  • Isn’t It?

    Isn’t It?

    Isn’t it lovelythat no matter where we land,we can both look up and seethe same stars, the same yellow moonthat have illuminated the wayfor lovers since time began?Isn’t it marvelousthat no matter where we sit,we can both listento the same orchestraplaying in some far-off citya tune written a century agoin another?Isn’t it wonderfulthat we are…

  • In the Fall

    In the Fall

    In the fall I often getsentimental.As the light changes–clarity–I think of other timesthe light wasjust so.A lifetime of autumns,each bringing a newlife change, new aspirations andinspirations–Tonight I threw awaythe baby’s bassinet–the baby who was, replacednow by a boy who will change, too, leaveand return, like autumn,like the trees.

  • After the Break

    After the Break

    I sweep the porch, and each time I finishmore pieces of the broken glass sparkle in the sun,the breeze lifts and the piles of hairbegin to dance. Everything everything everything in my life is telling me:Have patience. Nothing can be contained. All is love. The sun shines on my face. I am healing.

  • Hope is a Kite

    Hope is a Kite

    My hope is a kite,and grasping even the tiniest length of string,I run. I run and I run,watching it soar to the sun.And I don’t listenwhen they say the string is inadequate or the fabric is too light.I don’t heed the warningsthat if I keep runningI’ll run right off the edge of the Earth.I can’t…

  • Snakes

    Snakes

    My mother never liked snakes.Once, I saw her shoot two black snakes right out of a tree–they were writhingand weaving together in the branches,hanging entwined making love–but she was not fooling around. Another time,she emptied a pistol into onethat had the misfortuneof wandering through her yard–five shots out of six on target–and then she grabbed…