I want to be a crab Covered orange, a little red, just a dab, Soft inside the shell Hard outside where others see, Then I wouldn’t feel so small When the world threatens me.
Many years before my brother died, He said to me that the spiritual realm lay just beyond our grasp, Behind a curtain, And that he’d like to pull it back in order to see what’s there. Now that he’s dead, I imagine him opening the curtain, From the other side, And saying boo.
One bird, two. Three birds, four. One on the walk, One at the door, Collecting seeds For Winter’s store.
Pomegranates She had thick locks of iron grey hair That laughed down her back. Reclining on the blanket in their backyard, Her gaze held a smile on his face. The professor and his wife introduced me To the harpsichord, good wine, and backyard picnics. He adjusted his thick glasses, and that wry smile appeared. He […]