invitation

is there anything so inviting
as a blank page,
an idle pen?
the silence beckoning to
scratching scribbling
and though the mind may
cease to flow
the hand still begs to fill
vacant lines

one more

oh, that sweet
bitter taste
of one more
day
hour
moment
the feeling of loss
before it's over
the difference of
one more and one last
caught between a smile
and a silent tear
tracing pain down
my face
a sob preceding
the aching void

oh, to be a blade of grass
to grow and be mowed
and grow again
to not know pain
or the heartache of
leaving a lover behind

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

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

unsuspecting

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

shoes.
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.