I'm six poems behind, as of today. But now just a few: this is what happens when I wake up to a windy, 70 degree day and have coffee in the backyard.


--------------------------------------------

Framed by ropes of wires
Against the flattened blue
Eerily slow, clouds crawl
Ignoring the surface of sky
And its features-- birds, ancient branchings
The points of pine or the skittering sun

Heedless, like the
Mind of God

----------------------------------------------

What Really Happened to Them


The last of the bees, huddled
Hidden in a fallen oak
Half a mile past some stream
Gathered their wings
Singing furious rhyme.

Hanging together
In a crowded new shape
They flew forth to become
The next jaguar.

----------------------------------------------

Anarchy


The peonies left and took the ants with them
Tigerlilies were on the fence, but
The roses are in revolt, so
I weed more carefully
Hoping to build goodwill--

And sow an army of sunflowers
Just in case.

--------------------------------------------------

4/16/2012
by MK