Poem Category: All

cawing guilty…

a murder of crows

over the dead lamb

day off work

all morning how gentle

the fog drips! drips! drips!

the wind exceeds itself

lifting the lily’s skirts

to their underparts

10 o’clock stars

the dog relieves slowly

to return indoors

antiques shop

tree rings polished

for the year’s sale

cool on my cheek—

I let the butterfly

consider where next

butterfly farm

our visit stamped

all the way home