, , ,

The matriarch trout

Takes bait from his hand

She follows him with her eyes

Wise and deep,

Her tail strong, confusing

The current.


Crushed day lilies reappear

Under the mounded dirt left

When the old fence came down

The new posts set in cement


The boys of summer

Swing their bats

Y on their caps–

Across the green diamond.


When they fade

Others appear, in crisp, white


Knocking it out of the park


On Willox Lane

The retired state trooper

Mows his lawn for the third time

In a week, treads heavily

Through his circle of rooms

Wife long dead,

Old dog following him

Permeable shadow.


What improvisation

Crests through the heart

On this day—


Praise for the extraordinary,

A dove fluttering off into elms,

Psalm with wings.