Month: March 2019

Central Avenue

Across from the farm 
clouds gather densely 
grey lavender blue 
cover the west 
Trees hacked at powerline level 
become candelabras 
Branches sprout like hands from the wounds 
grasping for life 
Birds glide from one tree to another 
changing, then changing their minds 
Daffodils, violets 
The scent of cut grass 
Cows cling to the hills like burrs 
A bonsai is training to bow and bend 
strapped in a submissive posture 
Neighbors gather in a driveway 
their radio urging Crybaby to cry 
Seven pink flamingos 
gather near a doorstep 
a weeping cherry  
every other tree distorted 
The sun glows apricot 
in a line at the horizon 
a river of light 
fueling the trees, the birds, the neighbors, the town 

Arbor Court

The sun is setting
A robin stands guard on the lawn  
Pear trees look hand dipped in a snowstorm, so covered in white flowers
A mockingbird hunts insects, bobbing and hopping, springing across the grass
a parody of itself 
Floodlight turns into isolated rays as the sun slides behind trees, houses 
Church bells parade a song  
the pitch cheery, the tune melancholy 
the hours toll     in     slow     motion,     deliberately. Seven. 
the tone lingers  
A mountain in the distance 
Colors of the lawn and the robin begin to meld together 
appear identical 
A chill crystalizes in the air