Poetry Play


Ear Worm

John, John,
The gander’s gone.
The fox is on the town.
The kits will cry ‘til by and by
The gander’s on their table.
John, John.


Full moon
On the desert
Pulls on the sand and rock
The ancient sea now seems long gone.
Neap tide.


Birds are betrayed
By the boy child’s tantrums.
Bringing winter back blasting spring’s


Cigarettes, pipes.
Chewing tobacco, snuff.
Made from crops lovingly tended
To death.


Two Brief Poems and One Short Poem about Spring



New grass, baby leaves.

Same old prairie,

Same old trees.



Whither the wind?

Does it blow around the world

And back again?



Winter Kill                                                                   for Jan

I took my shears to prune

what winter had killed,

but cut too deep,

lopped the graft,

only root stock remained.

I thought I had killed

all blooms to be,

all hope of flowering.

What grew then,

was something new,

blushing white

as angel wings

and fragrant,

as they must be.