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2021 Albuquerque American Place Bird Song Poems

Won’t Run From Love

Sly, daring, road running
Time of Love, not quite spring
But the waning days of winter sing
Of the promise — A Whisper
Of the returning season
Of raising a new generation
Of cunning birds…
This one with Lizard in mouth
An offering for his devote
Lifemate and lover.
In the road they dance
And show that they have
No patience for the changing clime
Rare to take flight, in pursuit he might
Soar from rooftop to rooftop.
With coos, clicks and beeps
He woos his sweet and as we pass
They pay no mind to our kind.

Categories
2021 Albuquerque American Place Poems

Ghost Town

The City is full of Ghosts
Not the dead kind
The impressions of existence
Left behind.
Rarely do we see the signs
Like Coyote
Never revealing her constant
Presence.
She only comes out when
No one else can observe her.

Yet, as I walk out in the
Quiet snow this morning
An entire ecosystem reveals
its passage by…
The rabbit who I’ve never seen
On my street
Has walked around my car
Looking for what I might
Have dropped to eat.

Many, many people whose paths
Are clear from footprints
In and out of their houses.
The robins and finches who
Have come for morning meal.

All is silent but I know they are there
Revealed by their impressions…

Like Racoon and Coyote
Solo trails without human companion
The handish print and claws
And the canine with no walker.

Categories
2021 Albuquerque American Place Poems

Assailant One

Perception is not reality
Just ask The Mountain
She is an illusion…

Presenting herself
Like a bear on hind legs
Much grander much
Bigger – A whole lot
More terrifying.

But the mountain lies…
Not One Mountain at all
Many (mini) Mountains
Each requiring its own
Accent.

Each of a scale and
Magnitude to fatigue
The sojourner who seeks
To run his toes through her
Sands.

She is grand, but
Not how she seems
From a distance.
From afar, un-assailable!

Yet, peel away her layers
And you may find a
Passage unto her loving
Bosom.

Categories
2021 Albuquerque American Place Bird Song Poems

Golden Boughs

The trees acknowledge me
Nodding their heads
In the breeze

Contrasted pillars
Of black and white
Glowing golden

Packed full of
Black birds
Suddenly silent

Then bursting away
In a tightly packed
School of flight

Growing calls
Of the animals
Preparing for the night

Herons tall
And purple
Pecking their evening meal

As little perfection
Can be found in this world
This moment, one–

Lifts my spirit and
Makes me bound
Giddy as a child called to home.

Categories
2021 Albuquerque American Place Bird Song Poems

Crow

Crow, Crow
Pushy
Scared

Crow, Crow
Every
Where

Some in the garden
Some on the roof

Crow, crow
Sacred
Proof

Categories
2020 Albuquerque American Place Poems

New Moon The Waning Year All Souls

The full blue moon set
This morning on Hallow’s Day

A Day for Dead
To be remembered

Alters built
For friends and pets
Family, loved ones
These ancestors we’ve kept
In tales of remembrance.

The power of the story
To recall the spirit
Of our cherished gone.

We long
For resurrection!
And within
These brief moments
They are here
— With us.

Categories
2020 Albuquerque American Place Poems

Piles

The withering leaves
Holding on to the green
As they struggle
Laden with
Snow to control
The last moments
Of their living existence
Short the distance
To the ground
Where they will soon
Be piled up
Into fond
Childhood Memories

Categories
2020 Albuquerque American Place Garden Psalms Poems

Don’t Be Late

An orderly disarray —
Recorder singing
Up and down the scale
While the flowers
Of Autumn dance
In the light breeze.
Forget-me-nots
And daisies
Orange marigolds
Red dew cups
Full of bees knees
Tomato, basil
Garlic Please!
Small leaves
Of chard to
Be tossed with
The lard of
A beautiful bacon butt.

Don’t be late for breakfast!

Categories
2020 Albuquerque American Place Poems

Coffee Break

A fresh start
Like cold autumn air
Pulling back the heat curtain
To reveal brisk brightness
That bites at the lungs
And steams out your mouth.
A cup of hot coffee
Vapor currents dancing
From its circular rim…
So it begins

And we scan the horizon
For Hot Air Balloons
That aren’t rising this year.
No mass ascension
To draw your attention
Away from the boring end
of summer.

In this Covid time
No gathering sublime
to race off into
the sunrise.

Here we sit
and take a sip
of our cooling coffee
at the breakfast table
unable to escape another day.

Categories
2020 Albuquerque American Place Poems

The Alacrity of Spiders

O, happy kill
And with pure will
The tiny Widow
Hauls whole snails
Down below
To feed her sacks
Of tiny brats
By the hundreds
They will flow
Into my dreams
Reminding me though
There are things
I do not like!
Like counting spiders
Through the night
Who creep and sneak
And crawl to fright me
Out of my slumber cold.
Though I’m not their prey
A snack they may
Make from me
In the morning light.
(But, truly they were never there…
Just in my dreams and
Awakened stares
Taking from me my
Restful delights.)

*Alacrity – Not a common word for most. I stole it from William Carlos Williams. “Brisk and cheerful readiness.”