Slicing

slicing the west wind

into a million pieces—

little boy’s kite string

Willows

looking at willows

through my rose-colored glasses

you keep coming back

lying leg to leg

naked on the rumpled sheets

the morning after

at the swimming hole

two naked women splashing—

summer festival

just before sundown

walking with a dragonfly

my sole companion

at the river’s edge

a moment’s hesitation

and then plunging in

grandfather’s chess set

with a missing black bishop—

pebble takes its place

in the ceaseless sound

of wind sweeping the prairie

a terrified mouse

searching with hope

for the first plum blossom

while snow still falls

How long is the way

to the witch hazel thicket

near the old stone ring?