A bass freshly caught
lies still as death in the grass
then flops to water
A long summer drought
old woman in a lawn chair
watering dead grass
Stillness of the dawn
where the lonely cry rings out
and the sun rises
crimson in the dusk
waves wash over the seagrass
as a seagull cries
Dusk thirty and dark
kids returning home from play
tranquility lost
Whenever you sing,
Robins mute their lilting speech?
Dawn weeps your absence.
Swimming with the rocks
A short life ends abruptly
A watery grave
the scorched seashell skin
the parched labyrinthine womb
a primeval death
field diving into
a river - weeping willows
cradling the full moon
never turn your back
on the ocean, mother warned,
the dead come in waves
Blackness weights the sky
of a city damp with grief--
Norwegian summer
Bumblebee, hanging
midair, not a flower near?
maybe lost in thought.
fast fading crickets
day lilies blooming beneath
a widow's window
A handful of books
Sown into the desk's hard wood:
Harvest of the dead.
sorrow is not kind
tender or gentle in scope?
just cold like silence
The sand strewn with souls
Sitting on the beach of Death
The tide rushes in
Red cracks sear windows
Icicle tears cling to sills
Heart storm clots gutters
Creation stories
have been lost, so let's create
our own by living
Weeping cherry branch
Underneath the risen moon.
Our soldiers come home.
Singing chickadee.
Eyeing absent bluebird's house.
Filled with tiny cheer.
wilting rose pedal
weighted in the morning dew
drops tears of nature