Posted in Uncategorized, tagged awe, bread, change, crow, haiku, heart, listening, lock, love, poem, transience, uncertainty on January 12, 2012| 2 Comments »
too many to count
petals on the orchard floor
he loves me?
*
rusted lock
in the heart’s back pocket
a spare key
*
snow on the ridges
come spring what else
will be missing?
*
almost asleep
these hands still kneading
soft dough
*
he talks
and talks and talks and talks
about listening
*
no temple bells
still the crow goes on
about awe, awe
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged aloneness, crow, sonnet, the call on October 28, 2011| 1 Comment »
We follow the call. It leads us deeper and deeper.
—Joi Sharp
Inside, I think I hear the call of crow,
and walk outside to find where it is singing.
Crow is nowhere to be seen, no winging
cross the blue. Not in the trees. And no
more song. I listen. Listen. Listen. Oh!
I hear it there, through pinions, a small hinging
in the air, and try to follow, swinging
my legs over cactus patches, deer scat, snow,
an old barbed wire fence strung low, what’s that?
Another bird. What’s that? A hidden creek.
Where is the crow? I stop, perch on a stone.
Caw. I startle, looking for the black
outline of bird. It’s here, I think, and meet
my shadow, flapping in the sun, alone.