Journey

a long day’s journey

up the steepest mountain path—

raven mocking me

Cocoa

sipping hot cocoa

all the way to Laredo—

steady as she goes

chattering voices—

the TV in the next room

drowning out wren’s song

Even as the axe

bites into the old oak tree,

a nightingale sings.

Easter Day sundown—

sparrows in the cottonwood

keep on rejoicing

on the pond surface

a red maple leaf twirling

round and round and round

my father’s chess set

with both black bishops missing—

pebbles take their place

mariachi band—

a little thrush tilts her beak

to drink in the notes

in Monet’s garden

a paintbrush frayed and broken

tossed beside the path

cherry orchard way—

so thick the haze of blossoms

the blind man stumbles