Watch

too ill to travel

so I watch from my window

the first snow falling

Watching

watching my father

watching the blackbird strutting

on the backyard fence

drinking to the dregs

my seventh cup of coffee

on the solstice watch

The night hotel clerk,

having nothing else to do,

watches a porn flick.

the scratch on my lens—

why I keep watching the wren

with a jaundiced eye

watching words fly by

as though they were skeins of geese

fleeing summer’s end