Poem Category: All

never a keen gardener
I tend the herb beds
she left me

afternoon swirls
the gathering snow
leaves our prints

school re-union
a remembered laugh
cracks the ice

before our jog
the Oaks stripped
by autumn winds

in the bay tides
only the moon goes with
the storm debris

the winter rains
circling in the street lights
small grey moths

ahead of us
a motel light
opens the fog

autumn falls
and how the sun wanders
around our kitchen

all day inside…
I cook the same Thai
as she served yesterday

old horse barn
the young strapper
sniffs a sunbeam