Spring Morning In The Garden

a feast
of delicacies
for eyes and insects

Spot Of Green

the spice of ginger
sweet sight of snowdrops
a feast for winter weary eyes

We Catch Eyes

and understand
these woods hold
room enough for both of us


two bright poppy eyes
one wears shade
mascara-ed stamens


my eyes
can hardly hold
all the beauty that unfolds

Wayward Donkeys

At the farm of procreation
the girls gather at the fence
their sweet eyes disarming undeserved judgements.