
from still water
juts deadwood on which herons
perch with their shadows.

from still water
juts deadwood on which herons
perch with their shadows.

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?

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




I take a sunrise photo
And find the glorious orb
Diminished by poor photography,
& upstaged by a flaring pigeon.

lonely egret
wades in calm water,
awaiting lunch.

snake wrestles fish
onto rocky home turf, &
blends with sun-warmed stones.