the sensation

wind caress,
cool cha-cha
crisp leaves

capricious air

… currents.

birds fly high in the sky
destination unknown…

a crow, cawing.


 “CASES” #1

Emerging shadows, a Crow flirtatious
proceeded to untie my shoelaces.
Crows eluding Mockingbirds’ good graces,
pursue each other around “the bases“.
I saw three Crows on a wire fence [stasis] —
companionable perch, silent voices.
Thrusting its neck out, the Crow made faces;
The Caw” left almost physical traces.
When a black Crows flies it’s almost gracious,
long wings [serene] stretching through the ages.


(…hats off to Bob Dylan and his song, Blowin’ in the Wind…)

How many revisions must I walk down
searching for the metaphorical crown?
How many seas must a smart-ass seagull skim,
before basking in the tide’s baneful brim?
Yes ‘n’ how many times must a squirrel scream
before I FINALLY get what it means?
The smell of flowers is drifting in the wind,
disrupting the monologue in my mind…