Changes

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Bird song rises
in pure, liquid waves

as golden leaves
arc, twisting
to the ground.

Heavy gold
must fall.

October heat
will give way
to winter rain.

Yet inevitably life flows
like the breeze
rising from the broad sea
to the high Sierra;

grey clouds rise
and heavy snow falls.

All living waters
give praise.

El Nino

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images
Vincent Van Gogh, Wheatfield with Crows, 1890

fill your heart
with rush of rain,

open palms
to receive

new life
for your heart
of winter!

oh, see how
the birds
fiercely sing
my love!

(5 January 2016)

They Are Strangers Here

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Seagulls circle high,
In the heavy October sky

wide, white wings
nudging the dull air

riding gyres
past the waving crest
of our highest redwood.

They are strangers here.

They’ll find no shallows to fish
no mussels to lift
above the concrete wharf,
drop and crush
and delicately dissect
still living white flesh.

They must be lost.

Here they’ll find no flying sail
no schooner driving into
wintery winds. They’ll have
no rising bow here
to amend their errant way.

And yet, for now, they’ll stay,

Graces of light
In the gray gloom
of this cold autumn
afternoon.

(27 Oct. 2010)

In the morning, early

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3044-vine-morning-glory-moonflower

In the morning, early
before the sun has cleared
our neighbor’s roof,
we move through
our morning chores:

You water your gardens
and I feed my birds.

The rose, the morning glory,
creeping higher
up the blue trellis, reaching
for the brightening sky;
in the window-box
the vinca flaming red,

as sparrow and finch tumble
from the cherry tree

swarming in noisy congregation,
fussing and quarreling, shoving
for more seed –

rejoicing!

At the Bird-feeder

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Rushing, pushing
the sparrows shove;

pulsing wings
beating the air,
all for a bounty
of unexpected feed!

When drops two doves.

Wings folded,
they plaintively call;

the seed of plenty
gently falls.

(9 May 2015)

Aubade: Mourning-Dove

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cheery tree and birds

Dawn fires
the cold roses
one-
at-
a-time,
when, with
planetary urge,
all explode into
vermillion
conflagration.

Then the cherry tree,
plain in
drab leaf,
erupts into
emerald
glory,

and high
from the bright rooftop
the mourning-dove
sings
her  low,plaintive

song of
summer.

(14 June 2014)