Rake

After last night’s wind,

leaves lie knee-deep in the yard—

my rake is broken.

Shattered

On a gravel hill

a crane with a shattered wing

stares into the sun.

walking the wrong way

because my broken compass

keeps pointing me there

Bird at my window,

now that your left wing’s broken,

will you trust the right?

Fifth day of the year—

the wren with a broken wing

falls prey to the cat.

in Monet’s garden

a paintbrush frayed and broken

tossed beside the path

learning from the wren

how to carry fragile tunes

on a broken wing

Little brown sparrow,

even with a broken wing

you keep on singing.

terracotta pot—

on its broken edge one note

from the blackbird’s song

on a whitewashed wall

blackbird with a broken wing

singing up the sun