Poem Category: All

Canoeing
ahead of us
the storm rushed clouds.

Ripe tomatoes
blood warm in the glass house
the winter sun.

Dusk darkens
the quickening of bus stops
approaching home.

Paused in the parade,
the wheeze of the bagpipes
marching again.

The weekend’s soaking
her suds for a blanket
her bath for a bed.

Train station
a friend’s goodbye
lets off stream.

Deer hunting
in my gun-sights
the falls of autumn.

book of moths
opened on the table
a windowed sun.

in that moment
the well-water moon
shines back.

moonless
the window to the stars
we dream in.