Tuesday, January 8, 2013

walking around my neighborhood: small poems

in this half-light 
the garden troll
mistaken for a Buddha statue 

counting leaves
as they fall 
the child runs out of numbers

bus stop graffiti
“Nothing Lasts Forever”
removed by work crew

ants on parade —
on closer look:
a handful of scattered raisins

young men 
yoga-bragging in the deli —
"100 downward dogs, dude!"

taking a new route home —
stone pagoda
how long have you been here?

stepping into your snow prints—
the walk home

tai chi 
beside a frozen waterfall  —
young man   /   seagull

forgive me
for not recognizing you
disguised in an old woman's body

rain puddle —
tipping over
into my own reflection

chalked on the sidewalk —
step carefully

a strong wind —
collapsible umbrella

evening breeze
the neighbor's bamboo
returns my bow

spring morning
a coven of daffodils
up to no good

on the clothesline:
a dozen blue handkerchiefs —
my neighbor's prayer flags

in her own shadow —
black cat

almost Easter —
neighbor's Halloween porch
even scarier now

with a worm in its mouth
the fat robin
sings to itself

an open basement window
raccoon accepts 
the invitation

wind chimes on your back porch
after all these years 
the same breeze

cutting through the parking lot
I never expected to see you —

outside my favorite restaurant
a gang 
of delinquent bees

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

a moment ago
it wasn't there —
first iris

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

early morning walk
distracted by spring
bee and I collide

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

at the open door
of the neighborhood bakery 
pausing — just to sniff

still life:
one summer squash, two green tennis balls —
my neighbor's Sunday porch

passing a stranger on the street
he smells so good
dare I tell him so?

in full winter bloom
my neighbor's garden —
plastic flowers

different smells
at my old house —
and the hollyhocks are gone

under his snowy hat
the Hare Krishna man
again and again

(the brick you placed
in the public garden) —
I'm standing on it