Sunday, June 3, 2012

small poems, may 2012



Most of these are new poems, written in the last few weeks, but a few are old ones about spring and I wanted to include them here as well.

no robins today
only the red-haired
mailman

dreaming about the umbrella
that would not open —
heavy rains last night

holding onto each other
long after the train 
has left the station

lonely day
then I found you
and a blue iris
(in response to "Sharing a Path," a painting by C. Robin Janning)

between the slats
of our new garden fence —
evening sun
(in response to "Contemporary Art 35," a painting by Lynne Taetzsch)

cutting through the parking lot
I never expected to see you
poppies
(in response to "Contemporary Art 45," a painting by Lynne Taetzsch)

just when I 
give into it
the rain stops

since I met you
they seem to find me —
heart-shaped rocks

striking 
the brass bell —   
fog lifts

outside my favorite restaurant
a gang of delinquent
bees

friends bring me feathers
still
I never fly away

I didn't want to care so much
but then I did —
little ant

worn-out sofa
on the side of the road —
rest awhile

sometimes
even loneliness
crowds me

birthday bouquet
hyacinths
the color of your eyes

our old green hammock
just a memory
between 2 large oaks

filling her wagon 
with yellow irises
the girl can't stop laughing

mother
picks a dandelion to wear in her hair
she calls this gardening

high tide
a love note stuck on a rock —
hopeless

the longest hill
walking my broken bicycle
back home

a moment ago
it wasn't there —
first iris

early morning walk
distracted by spring
bee and I collide

lazy afternoon
counting your freckles
while you tell me your dream

lazy afternoon
even the wind chimes
are napping 

crow's shadow
lands on
my shadow's head

you're not home —
your cats greet me at the window —
they miss you too

sudden rainstorm
holding a red balloon
over my head
(in response to "Deep City Four," by Lynne Taetzsch)
bowing to the setting sun
my shadow
walks into the sea
in from the garden
even your knees
smell minty

between two mountains
a lost echo —
who will keep the secrets now?

garlic harvest festival
you arrive
carrying white lilies

laughing so hard
we miss
the thunder