Poem Category: All

Zen garden
the bonsai too drawing
its first spring sap.

Family reunion
our stories growing bolder
in mother’s kitchen.

Apple orchard
first light brightens
the hawk’s cold sleep.

Serving the wedding cake out
so girly again
in her tight pink jeans.

Desert winds
wearing a different shape
the stone-age boulders.

Sunday morning
a storm dashed egg
in the pretty tot’s hand.

Attic sun
the quietness of a doll
losing its face.

Fruit bowl
no student yet painting
the apple’s bruise.

Grandfather clock
chimes tingling
the tot’s covered ears.

The horses graze
under a blowing tree
our picnic spread.