Poem Category: All

Sunday afternoon
the room for lunch
to quietly settle

I woke dreaming
spring would grow our peach tree
…and spring grew

dawn
cracking eyes
in a dream

among the rocks
drift-woods
interrupted

winking and blinking
a river log
to the sea,to the sea

first thaw
shifting the weights
of the forest

lighting an Oak
to where it fell
a century of moons

picnic canoe
the Sun is behind
the whoosh of the geese

drink in hand
Laurel’s karaoke
in that little black dress

sunrise
across a river of mirrors
the trees’ tender touch