Selected Poems
Our Pond
Another respite sunset will come light our forest grove
with welcoming lamps of white peach and amber gold.
Orange reflects in water ripples of back handed breezes.
Willow trees know our sorrow and weep yellow leaves.
Arriving empty handed, we want no brushes to paint
burdens slung and slogged through another weak day.
We have sat here, through blossoms and winter barren
alone, failing. We seek answers to our constant question.
We return home, starry knighted, arms filled with bouquets of hope
and bearing imaginary flowers of forgiveness, draped over our elbow.
No one watching or waiting is any wiser.
