the Winter Forest
i was alone
in a room in a house in the town
and somewhere nearby
or maybe far away
the trees waved
a strange hello
"don't go into the woods alone" they said
but i didn't listen
for there was something that called me
oh so sweetly
into the forest that night
She had Dark Eyes Like the Junco
early in the morning
she wakes cloaked in December's dreary mantle
and sleeps
and wakes again
and there with the birds perched lightly on the feeder's cage she thinks;
"if i was small like the junco i too could
fit between the bars of the cage
but i am small
like me"
On the Shore
late spring early summer
for months and months at a time
the tide pulls out and out and out
for a thousand leagues across the horizon
an alien planet is born
a gift from the sea
here we seek upon the tidal plain
the massive coiling shells
remants of giants
passed from snail
to lonesome crab
and now to us
our home is here within the spirals
nestled amongst the dunes and seagrass
come the morning i'll gaze out upon the
intertidal realm
the thick salty mud filling my nostrils
the sun radiating strongly with the hazy hazy glow of seaglass blues
and feel my toes sink into the muck
Spider House
here in the house where i grew up
i clear the spiders
out of the unused shower
gently lifting them
from the drain
some dangle from an ephmeral web
while others dance across my hand and
onto the windowsill laid with dirt and dust
their cobwebs fill the corners of the rooms
traces of paths crossed and recrossed
like the filament
do you think houses remember?
hold the past gently as you would a spider
saved from the drain