three poems (!)

to be a pest
to be a fly
oh, to ride
horse and cow and dog
to zip through garbage heaps
--make use of someone else's trash--
your only vice
to be a pest
because no one understands
a fly

the park
a roar
a constant dinning roar
of rushing traffic
a fly zipping past right ear
the whir of hummingbird wings
leaves whispering to the breeze
drumming hands on knees
fly past left ear
a bike softly clicking uphill
chatter fading as footfalls diminish
flapping flip-flops
clinking leashes
happy trotting paws
silence of blue sky

soar and
soar and
flap feathered wings
land on tip of tree
and flutter
to hold balance in
battering breeze
and leave
soar and
soar and



two wooden rocking chairs in the yard
sitting, facing
my open bedroom window
as if positioned to spy
on me
and not the cows lined up
curiously behind 
their unsuspecting backs


free feet

I never did like shoes,
they pinch my toes
and rub my heels
and make my arches hurt.
but free feet--
ah, soles bare to
wet grass, warm pavement,
the dull sharpness of gravel
in the driveway--
that is bliss.