God

God crouches each night

in a corner of my room,

then springs up to dance.

Circles

In vanishing ink

she sketches circles of light,

while Samson goes blind.

by the garden path

an upside down flowerpot

cottage for a toad

While I dream of stars,

you are dreaming of shadows

eclipsing our love.

banana cream pie

winking from the diner shelf

just to torment me

salmon fishery

eagles lurk in nearby pines

hoping for free lunch

Pattering of rain—

an old man clumps for cover

under North Street bridge.

a pair of tin drums

warning the ravenous ganders

away from the corn

fragrant flakes of snow—

white chrysanthemum petals

dusting sloe-eyed child

old women keening—

no barley straw to bundle

for winter fuel