Selected Poem from No Bridle, No Bit, No Reins
SOMETIMES IT HAPPENS WHEN WE DON'T READ SIGNS
This trail feels too narrow. I'm slipping
on glus going down but I don't remember
An ant hill, red ants swarming, a hoof print,
horse manure. Surely we would have noticed
We.re heading west. We're heading toward
the water tower. That's too far north. How did
we get here?
How do we get to the trailhead? The sun
is sliding behind the mountain. Will we
ever get home?
Selected Poems from Earth, Grass, Trees and Stone
At the edge of summer's pasture
where the tended field gives way to wildness
amidst jewel weed and poison ivy
brambles snag whatever passes by.
Snagged, I stop. The gift glimmers
in the shadows, black, ripe and waiting.
I take and eat. Bite down.
Juice spreads across my tongue.
I stuff my mouth with summer.
Taste heavy cream of Grandpa's Jerseys.
Dribble ice cream on my pinafore,
feel the hairbrush of my mother's anger.
Remember the man who unzipped his fly
when I was out early, birding, hear my father's
shout of rescue from his bedroom window.
Kneel in loam to plant long rows
of yellow beans and rise to dance
at midnight on the beach in Malaga.
Dive in the lake in Minnesota.
Swim to the island at Squam.
Bury my mother and stand in silence
to watch stars shoot across the August sky.
Blessed be the quiet of this room
and blessed your interruption,
your whispered, hi, and quiet leaving.
Blessed be those whose quiet
has no interruption, no word of greeting,
who stare out windows where no one passes,
while in stillness, memories
of summer lakes and raspberries slip away
with the January light.