Forward

Day of sweet sun and leaves
glistening.  Birds flit from tree
to tree.  The lichen is thick -
hangs from branches in green beards.

Three lady pheasants wander
in the garden next door and
the Air Force overhead, low, low
banks above the house and roars,
heads to Aberchalder and The Mill.

We danced on the grass, yelled
and waved our arms -
the pilot did a victory roll:
such euphoria, awe, joy.  Hard

to laud the time together, savour
the presence, not grieve
over absence and silence.

Shadows long on the grass -
I need to get beyond the glass
and clear up the drear winter
brown, all the broken seeds.
I groan at the thought of the weeds.

previous poem

next poem