The Art of Elusive

Early sunlight, morning, dawn…

fringes of green grass glistened yellow —

the slight brown ears of the baby Rabbit

almost imperceptible among the blades.

When I blinked he dashed for cover under the tool shed.


Piece by piece, separate the thousand parts of a jigsaw puzzle,

then throw them in the air.

Did you see where the iota[s] fell?

Now, put the bits back together.

That’s what waking up is like

and sometimes my morning walks —

a time to figure out where the fragments lay.


>>>>>The Starlings swirled <<<<<

Gold flecks dispersed –

Neighboring black feathers…

Wings spread.

They flew to the hole in the roof;

long grass dangling from one beak,

berries in another…


Down to the ground

Peck, peck


Up to the top of the street lamp,

Lifting its slight wings trying to chirp


I lost count:

which one was an adult,

which one was a child ?


A Starling perched on the windowsill

Looking UP

Took awhile for the decision to be made

[fly back to  the nest, sanctuary, home..?]


>>>>>A Starling’s beak is golden.<<<<<


TREES – another thought

I think that I shall never see

a soul as sanguine as a tree:

Thousand tongues twittering, whispering

as the wind through the leaves, rustling –

Giddy-UP the tree trunk grows TALL …

stairway to the sky, ultimate law.

If left alone a tree will thrive;

Ancestral conversations MINE.

Fingers stretching, tender tree twigs touch

Spectral currents sigh – it’s a bit much.

Place your hand on a tree and listen,

sanguine sap, a tree’s solution.

(Kudos to Joyce Kilmer…)