Flying

I catch a curve, a flash of wing
And know your soul is gone.
Maybe you never called home

The sheltered hollow you found
When your first tree fell.
Have you've been flying ever since?
When will your muscles tire
Of the restless movement
Searching through strange leaves
For the place you lost?

Believe me, bright feathers-
There are other trees,
But nothing like the faithful sky.

Boy

No telling what's chasing around
in his head, but
my boy sweats when he sleeps,
getting out those bad dreams.
His knees move back and forth,
body can't decide what to do
all on its own.
My baby wears a ring on his hand,
just because I wanted him to have it.
Man, he doesn't talk too much-
Not even enough,
but he'll smile a bit when he listens.
My baby laps up the sweetness of life
to get that bad taste out of his mouth.
And then he shakes his head. You know,
like a dog with water in his ears
and then he trots off again, renewed
maybe a bit.
That boy grabs me hard sometimes
in between the other times.
And when he's thinking
and his eyes get that lidded look
and his fingers just have to move.
Maybe that's when I love him most.
But I'm not sure, cause my baby doesn't talk much.

Assignment

Driving past

The hills and chimney smoke mingling

With the earth’s waking breaths

I can feel the crisp road crunch

Under the tires, as I turn slowly

Remembering that time

When the road spun me off into the grove

Of maple saplings

Cresting the hill saved for neighbors’ graves

Sunrise

Welcome

While the condensed snow clouds slumber in the valley

Spilling over the sides of the loping hills

Sunbathing, not reaching the bottom of the valley

As I weave my way along the thin road

Looking at the underbellies, spent and sleepy

The roosters hear the rutted gravel driveway welcome me

And hurry, jabbering for first place

I scatter the grain slowly, watching the fiery necks glisten

Sunlight rising

Over the East hill

Spikes of sudden frost illuminated on the garden fence

And the rain barrel sketched with ice

Sunrise