Tender hearts bear their leafy souls
to the sun and the weather of the day
as the wind chime cheers them on
and a spider’s web holds them up.


The babies have feathered and flown.
It is time to wing to the South.
Your house holds the echo of your song,
and awaits your return in the spring.


Until the crops have given their full yield
you may rest in the high weeds with the moon flower.
When it is time to till again you will carry the full weight of a man and his dreams.

Round the Bend

When the present arrives
suddenly and surely like a train
the past is left behind
and the future is forever before us.

Green Mountains

You seem to extend into eternity.
Next to you I know my smallness is the right size.
I am a necessary fragment of your wholeness.


All your miles brought you to this empty field.
Doors are flung wide, frozen in time,
your driver and passenger eternally on the run.


The fields form a patchwork quilt,
a growing green cover that reaches from the river bank to the mountains.
Tied together with labor and nurture for the purpose of sustenance.