Home, Heart

With warmth of heart entering the scalded fall day,
recall –

kaleidoscopic drifts of leaves, Brown County, Indiana,
smooth sap runnels on firs, Coos Bay, Oregon,
taunting northwest snows, Missoula, Montana;

not the perversities of a winter foretold,
rather the rheostat of transformation,
seasons’ sliding dimmer switch.

Moment to Moment

Little bird tap, tap, tapping a third floor window,
trying to access The History of England, like me.

Too few Fridays at 7 a.m., almost too early to
connect the dots from Runnymede to Agincourt.

Facing a seventh decade, back at school again;
bird taps help refocus me on staccato note-taking.

Walking meditation at break; no monkey-mind, just
bird-rhythm thoughts, bloody horrors and heritage.

Being in the present, quarrels with learning the past.

From Within Reptilian Eyes

Amber leaves depend from ebony twigs,
wet bulbous nodules animate leafy emerald trees,
visually dazzling, these intellectual incongruities,
minor befuddlements, slowly ease into apprehension.

Velveteen crows glower from within reptilian eyes,
surreptitiously trickling Doritos from their beaks,
golden flashes flipping in the autumn breeze;
scavengers of the remains of the departed –

Nothing is wasted and nothing is lost.