a stir of air around a leaf
a hesitation brief enough
to give pause to be still
to listen through the quick silence
for the birds’ chatter and flirt
to return and then it doesn’t
and it doesn’t matter
that you missed it
there’s always enough
for any day to be enough
(May 11, 2020)
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (15)
from the upstairs window
the grey cat waits
and watches shadows
shift like dark flowers
dance in morning light
(January 21, 2020)
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (8)
I don’t want
to be a salmon struggling
upstream to spawn and die
exhausted and decayed
nor
to be swept downstream
with broken branches and silt
into a churning sea
I want to be
a catfish
calm and content
deep within a silent pool
(January 12, 2020)
Darkness surrounds me
as the coffee pot gurgles.
A cat purrs nearby.
(October 23, 2019)
