A Late Fox

twilight into dawn

a late fox runs quickly

into the woods 

Time Folding

time folding

like the slow fan

of a weary Samurai 

sitting, rocking                                                      

               on the shore

                             of his drunken sea

its waves washing and rolling

              a sand hidden small slipper

                             once silk pink, now torn grey

   the Samurai nods and sleeps

               the tide recedes leaving its message

                             under the cover of a billion stars

LC

Bird Watching

 

the jay yells at me and leaves

we have looked at each other long enough for him

but not for me

 

I have questions

instead of answers I get

a strong wind

shaking the maple leaves

bending the tall skinny pines

creating a navigation feat

              for little gray birds

                  going at top speed

this is a very windy place where I live

 

L.C.

 

 

Mule Deer

 

words floating

dandelion parachutes

for the slippery minds of poets

holding time

to remember

strong soft ears turning

hearing lulling beats

of dragonfly wings

wonderstruck

huge brown eyes

wild hearing

my laughter through thick walls

flying over the fence

and lost

and I have flown too far

for you to hear

for me to see

 

Rengetsu’s Rabbit

making a path

across the wild grass

she cuts calligraphy

now, now, now

I am here

like the stars

here, yet, yet

long gone

now this, old age

where white grasses crackle

in a frosty wind

At Shevlin Park

the Deschutes River

makes a turn across his own Burren

one he’s been carving out for centuries

slowly, with ice cracking tiny chunks of rock

slowly, chiseling with water flow

little pockets echoing duck quacks,

animal tracks, then water plants

and me, like a leaf here and gone

downriver

 to the vast Colombia

downriver

to the wide-open sea