Let nothing you dismay

The cat loped home from the far-away when I struck the bell of his name, and love bounded out to meet him. A memory arrived in the same way, as did the day.

The tiny many

In my cabinet of earth's weathers, shelves of leaf and dew uncatalogued. The label would say, I do not forget you.

A yellow flower's view

Wan sun. Still, it's something to follow in the blank skies of winter. Unless it snows. Those flakes and the night's stars don't mean as much to me.

Starship

Roaming the frost with a camera for an eye and rose hips for a galaxy. 

From one minute to the next

Those feelings that get up with me, crouching since dawn with the cat
who wants breakfast. The street life of my soul, the watcher watching it.

   

Intimacies

The horizon in all directions had imbibed the evening glow. The sky was unimpeded, it seemed to want my climb. If I took sufficient height, I would understand tomorrow. 

When darkness tightened the streets, there was nothing even so far as arm's distance.

Moon on the fly

Her fleet was waiting.

Earth orbs scarcely pink

 Colors hurry across the yard just before the invisible wind arrives.

A sweet caress

The gray light of November breaks into the house. Something there is that loves it. 

White steam

Frost gauzes the downed and the mown.
But few shadows haunt the yard.
In the distance, a teapot whistles.

The fractured world

Rainbows walk the dining room walls and blue frost scumbles the grass. Wind scatters leaves like cats or light. Beauty leans in at an angle to the grief.

The sky was too beautiful

The clouds, the earth, the river, every house was built of pink. For just a minute.

Other Worlds

After a night of cloudy dreams,  I went out to look for the moon.

Half and Full

Shock of a moon last night driving home, gold cradle on the hilltop, nothing in science to explain its size. It's all right to just say, inescapable wonder.

(above photos: snowberries)

Inside an atom

The wind tosses light around like leaves. Flags of sunshine whip from every snarl of weed and shrub. Even the hidden berries vibrate.

Ghosts

Garden plots erased by red and golden leaves, levelers of ground. I hear the whisper of my feet walking anywhere they want to.

Road to Pescadero

Outside my element, inside a different beauty.

Lacrimae rerum

Just like me, she was always waiting, waiting while brimming. 

It was the job they had asked her to do, a god's task, she may well have been a stone. 

Luckily, she was not left to do it by herself.