Poem Category: All

lunch-time break…
you let yourself in
to straighten our fight and mess

night of winds
as far as sleep goes
nearly lifting the tin roof

the moon peering in
lifts the well water
to curve itself

morning in fog…
the breakfast passes
to lunches for school

wet
on the new laid path
the smell of old bricks

my slow lightening
at the forest’s edge—
winter fire-wood

trellis grapes
the white bowl passes
in friendly poker