
a daytime half moon,
feeble compared to at night,
yet I stop to look.

a daytime half moon,
feeble compared to at night,
yet I stop to look.

I don’t mind one crow,
on a rail or curb,
by its lonesome.
Nor am I troubled by
a large number of the birds.
(The group designation “murder,”
notwithstanding.)
But where two or three
are gathered, facing
each other…
That’s when I get the
heebie-jeebies.

an egret peers
into the lake, past
surface reflections?
When early morning sunlight warms
The vibrant lakeside greenery,
All of those cave-like lakeside trails
turn psychedelic scenery.
The leaves become so translucent
Butterfly and bee silhouettes
Stretch out at distorted angles --
Beasts beyond being caught with nets.
Despite being sober and fresh
The mind reels or seeks to reset.

budding limbs:
vibrant growth unseen from
the city beyond.

swamphens strut
at water’s edge, and
i’m a farmboy again.

late afternoon sun
catches yellow bloom clusters:
the day’s last hurrah.
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.