Poem Category: All

Pointing up
she says shooting star
with a lisp.

Dining table
daggers of light
the silver moon.

Closing fog
the willow drips
sounds of the river.

The winds ruffle
a magpie gurgles
into her eggs.

Where clouds would be…
taking a while to leave
my envy of the wild geese.

Mind full
our tom cat stepping
behind the magpie’s warble.

Sunset darkens
nearly at the snake’s young
the school boy’s stick.

First snow…
a newcomer taking
our poker night wins.

Used car yard
winter dinting us
with hail and rust.

Tripped by a log
half-way to joining the stars
the flash of my torch.