haiku
little brown creepers
chatter in the oak branches
of a longer day greater yellow-legs
I hear you as the sun sets
tucking in the slough there is resonance
in some of these sounds - patterns
geese in the valley your winter silence
calls us to quiet ourselves
and open our eyes gentle eddies flow
of small, grey, fluffy bushtits
tiny waves of joy your boughs and branches
form ephemeral perches
to hold the half-moon my little wrentit
calling from the blackberry
of December fruits golden grasses catch
light and shadows of white oaks
while tundra swans call this bright winter sun
warms more than the light touches
to radiate forth oh my little wren
you’ve come to greet me with song
on this winter day playing in puddles
your black feathers spread with joy
crows in winter rain good morning, my friend
I see you watching – waiting
for what is to come this bright being here
is a beacon in the slough
of thoughts – for light – peace first star of this night
you seem to have gotten caught
in this trees branches good morning to night
your stars are fading to light
a veil of sunlight this set of five strings
holds infinite melodies
in their potential with all of these nodes
so completely connected
contemplate circuits my towhee - a wisp
this little spirit in flight
calls me to forest I saw Jupiter
but it slipped between branches
and into the fog a quiet that comes
when all of your buzzing stops
compresses – expands with such precision
you place each little treasure
between these spaces you call little notes
and listen for little notes
connecting through woods sometimes – just stay put
and take in the light – for there’s
fog in the valley a pocket of light
manifested between mist
and opened to blue there you are up there
moving along this tree bark
no gravity here oh! good morning friends
you have brought with you such caws
tell me about it the stitches we sew
that hold these materials
bring texture – beauty the grid of orchards
when moved, holds such surprises
tunnels in tunnels little flash of red
just around the white oak tree
downy woodpecker your white feathers turn
to light purplish blue
as the sun tucks in I glimpsed you in trees
large orange sliver – at the edge
of the horizon at the bottom here
in late light sustaining – faint
you are framed by trees come, come, come my friends
drink and drink and gather at the well
of friendship and warmth I mourn for so much
the loss of now – of future
of beautiful light to identify
is not the same as knowing
to know is to see connecting here – now
iterates and manifests
more circuits of hope when I see robins
I see you – and your beauty
a presence through time it’s that morning cup
of something warm and so fragrant
that gives the day breath across the locus
connected – a chord becomes
a bridge to one’s self I want to knit this
fiber of my small being
into the aether you are just on time
at dusk over green meadow
I hoped you’d be here oh my! puddle friends
so many of you have come
to splash in the sky sometimes - you need to
catch up to the current – flow
to then meander somehow I missed you
but just as I turned to leave
I truly saw you with wide toes you ground
energy connected here
to give way to grass when you find some tracks
what is the story to tell?
imagine - nature I’m thinking of you
as the egrets roam the field
and the sun nestles the clouds just moved in
and the blue sky went away
a winter grey day how many fingers
through human history have
played with bark of trees an infinite sum
can defy your intuition
open to wonder you hover right there
to touch what nourishes you
with grace in your flight you gurgle at me
with your beak wipes on the bough
good morning my friend the breath is sometimes
all we have – focus on in
then out - just breathing oh, little warblers
you have gathered in my yard
with rumps of sunshine white little orchid
welcome to your new window
may you bloom and grow what seems to be same
may just surprise you – and be
a whole new species oh, little banjo
I just tuned you into A
droning moon of strings robins on gravestones
in flocks of redbreasted glee
conversing with life a yellow flicker
integrade – a palette of
an ice age melted in the meeting house
there is glory when I play
eyes-closed - clawhammer this contemplation
has brought you to the grains
of such fine detail when searching for owls
you might find yourself in fields
with a herd of elk lean into that tree
and let it ground you through roots
let your branches sway you ask me to rise
just before the sun rises
with your springtime call there might be a bow
in the neck of this banjo
head under tension someone once told me
if you don’t share what’s hidden
others might not see such giants live here
at the edge of the meadow
cottonwood forest the last winter’s leaf
hangs from your bough, and is moved
to wave at springtime it’s hard not to fret
you might have to just slide down
for a moment first up there at the top
you nestle down in the warmth
of little owlettes the eye of the mind
is but words, concepts, and sound
for some – I see not maybe you endow
consciousness upon this rock
through contemplation you think most your thoughts
are made of what is between
words and sound and color your small dreams are here
under the sheets of your thoughts
waiting to be felt so many wood ducks
up in the tops of the trees
harbingers of spring unable to do
you might, instead, choose to be
here for a moment when you look up high
then, take a break, you might find
an eye-level owl trust your inner thoughts
to form beauty with the ink
of poetic light what is even yours?
everything is from something
a derivative I see five of you
at the edge of the night woods
goodnight my deer friends such a sleepless night
the birds in the windy trees
holding on so tight generative thoughts
integrating randomness
into this being little short eared owl
when will you arrive up north
among the lemmings sometimes the strong winds
thin and clean the crossing twigs
sometimes get topped the thoughts about trees
come in these bountiful waves
and then at times ebb just when you need it
some sort of confirmation
the pelicans came these little bluebirds
have chosen this little home
to spend their springtime countable is not
for every robin I hear
there is one between you turn around this
little sphere with your cycle
celestial dance the conversations
with the weeds in the small cracks
are of struggle – light blossoms do abound
with little pink petals here
dancing in the wind the beauty of time
is that it only exists
for that one moment this little droplet
gathers on your small petal
magnifying you you’ve chosen our home!
to nest and share your little
bluebird fluffs of joy my fairy slipper
you’ve manifested early
may the bees find you little buffleheads
you have graced the water with
your new fluffy raft oh, how you take off
in a sudden jolt of flight
when rafts become skeins the diversity
of greens, of contours, of form
in the garden bed you’ve graced this pink tree
with your attention to her
loving nooks for nests wow, you sure are loud
in the hour before sunnrise
sing goodbye to night who wouldn’t choose
this little nest with blossoms
gracing the threshold I’m so glad you’re back
or were you only silent?
oh! to hear your song your fracture of self
has left an opening here
to sprout ferns – hold nests backyard metronome
you tweeee right on cue – towheeee
joy to my ears – tweeee it is the angle
that you tilt your head – listen
to waves of ocean thank the ones who love
and care for the blooming trees
for they bring blossoms a little prayer
you say for the strawberries
to cover the ground it seems I was here
to make sure the gate is wide
and open for you tonight you all sit
in a puddle of peach dusk
a chorus of frogs my little snow goose
I hear your call all alone
as you fly in search there are so many
leaves in this little garden
a microcosm knowing what to do
can feel so impossible
so, just do your best oh my yellow rump
you are chasing off the birds
“be gone” chickadee! I dug up the thyme
along the sidewalk my friend
for your sweet garden this small whirlwind
of warblers dances in this
garden of delight you can feel the change
– and the steps you need to take
become oh so clear wow! you are a poof!
a verifyable borb!
my little junco you have a hard time
with all of the inputs – sound
It’s ok to spin my little warlber
you’ve reminded me of why
I stop to listen when I walk with you
I sometimes can’t remember
the paths that we took pushing through the fog
might just end in glorious
end-to-end rainbows the maximizing
of the space within your mind
to hold emptiness so, how many minds
have thought the thoughts you think
and then let them go with hand in the soil
cultivate the bounty here
nurture these small roots blessed is this small pond
for the green herons and frogs
lily pad flowers I hear your zee-zee
at the tips of flowering
branches – there you sing you’re guarding this field
past sunset and into dusk
bluebird on night sky incredible mess
you keep leaving in this bath
who gave you peanuts? look at all of you there!
gathering mud for your nests
at the river’s edge the small swaths of land
between the waters and slough
hold us to listen your little pink blooms
call the bees to greet you here
my little hawthorne at light’s border here
I see a forest both here
and then gone – landslide there are these moments
that seem to resonate – here
in sounds of warblers this is such a bath
with your black feathers spread out
shimmering in sun oh, you woke me up
with your song at the tree tops
western tanager some mornings are just
a little memorable
mole in the birdbath I thought I’d awake
to the sound of tanagers
but, it’s you! my wren! I sit and kneel here
just to look at your beauty
my camas lily you scritch your head here
on this small branch by the slough
embody cuteness the smell of camas
as you wade through tides of grass
smell of summer chives you quietly wait
in the shad on the fig tree
for me to say hi when you get into
a rhythm that drives your feet
your heart must join in the disappointment
of what people choose to do
Instead of create tonight I look up
and ponder abstract orbits
in fields of moonlight oh my! look at you!
with your stunning blue feathers
garden to rooftop with but a small breath
you might take in breaths of past
maybe an atom grow there in the rocks
with your little pink petals
bloom in this garden you might just breathe deep
enough that you forget you
and lose yourself here the ripples from flow
seem to morph and rotate some
to create their own little torch lilies
hold these little sweet pockets
for your little beak there's a lemniscate
in which you walk quite often
crossing at a point drop thumb on the strings
to establish your rhythm
and navigate through in this rocking chair
I wonder just how many
have nursed their babies soccer at the park
banjo on the small park bench
a summer moment I saw you – right there
moving from water to reed
my hidden sora it doesn’t matter
where you stand upon this earth
sunlight points at you what splendor there is
in this small springtime garden
blooming peonies you popped out in front
with your mouth full on the road
and crossed with such spunk modular sandpiles
seem to roll within the grids
beauty in the math you lost little crow
I see you are so quiet
I'm sorry my friend the flycatcher might
be flying at your feet as
you look at the sky contemplating light
coming through this small garden
and then to nourish vectors are but these
connections from origin
to your elements right before sunset
you notice the directness
celestial light this new little growth
coming from your small branches
spring manifested shake those little wings
my sweet baby chickadee
signals of new life what is contained here
a concentration of thought
placed into a book aphantasia
you're in the realm of concepts
without any sight this perception here
of how the time passes by
only exists now a sad mystery
I just know that you are gone
you are remembered chicka-dee-dee-dee
you sit in this small fig tree
hopping to spiders I see you scolded
by the black-headed grosbeak
my little barred owl you have packed the trees
with little small fluffs of joy
tree swallow forest the streak across sky
will be in my memory
on the porch with you I am hoping that
both of these clutches make it
through this changing world you are together
on the full kale, and it bows
to your weight and joy the loops that you form
will shape and mold you each round
like water on sand you seem to sneak in
just as the silence settles
nestling in flowers an evening sky
turned from blue into purple
with accents of pink imagine a self
that is the derivation
of its existence rolling blueberries
down the dirt piles
the scrub jays look on there is murkiness
in the way we show up here
and the ripples left oh, little flicker
you are calling so, so loud
your mother will come here, I am grateful
for the sunset that we shared
present with otters my little bluebird
you sit in front of the moon
and above your nest the light and shadow
define the water droplet
the lunes and lenses time for transition
don't fall back into the loops
seamlessly move you are blossoming
with the last light of the day
with peach and purple I came to see birds
and before I started – you
flew in for berries oh my pretty birds
you reach out with your wide mouths
you hungry babies your bobbing that butt
in and out of the water
with such a rhythm playing on the porch
with baby swallows
setting the rhythm beauty within sky
reflected in the birdbath
bathing in the clouds no more rookery
you are all in sitka sedge
my great blue herons I know I'm startled
from the sounds of destruction
oh my nesting birds sometimes a small walk
isn't what you need to do
maybe just lie down oh little swallows
you are now starting to fledge
but come in to rest smears of clouds in sky
catch the light and diffuse it
into this splendor your estimation
refines with every guess
an intuition these three little birds
on the branch in the slough – perched
shoulder to shoulder a refocusing
of light – and of you – of self
changes existence all these things we hold
captures of memory – held
on memory soil in your hands
moves to and around this plant
a beginning here to speak this language
is to think in its structure
to learn a new thought the wonder of this
might not be realized by some
oh, what we consume I hear your small chirps
as the house finches land there
on the wrong birdhouse night before the fast
you think through your day's motions
in preparation you appear to dance
with each other in night's sky
yet so far apart these little flowers
push the soil to reach the bees
with no need for light so, moderation
is for the times when the figs
are not in season your thin wisps align
then turn and cross each other
braided sunset clouds the piano keys
remember your touch, even
when it's been so long beauty in stories
is beauty in life - nature
reflections of earth the disks of white lace
scatter the field at sunset
intricate beauty you walk beneath her
and she arches over you
in this small embrace here, you feel separate
growth away from soil you know
and into the rocks you surface and spout
then your little one follows
feeding together here some days are just so
beautiful they carry you
forward to the next there you are – between
the trees – above the roof – bright
and orange in summer there are syllables
that have the rhythm of heart
beating from within some days are like loops
not sure which one you are on
but at least you're here you can feel the change
the summer slipping away
the night comes so fast sitting in the grass
he trimmed each blade at the edge
in remembrance you fledged while I slept
it's so quiet this morning
my little bluebirds I see you up there
beak open, it's so smokey
here's water my friend all the little lungs
that have no refuge from smoke
I am so sorry you came in so bold
to the water – in the smoke
to drink – my crossbill these curves – strings and weights
form them into abstractness
art from arrangement I just sat and cried
and held you – then suddenly
you woke – and took flight you came back today
I'm so grateful to see you
my little crossbill some of these small loops
are the hardest to to sever
it might take scissors somedays fly on by
a blur of the loops we walk
written in a smudge the sound of summer
crickets keeping time at night
Saturn dips below eclipse memories
when I am on the other
side of this small world something about me
brought you to come and say hi
little humming bird this slough has ebbed out
leaving the mud for finches
and the green heron you streak across sky
as the sun dims, you fill it
with your flutters - fly morning – I found you
under the raspberry leaf
your shelter last night sometimes you need songs
that speak of the end coming
when you are half way a stick in the mud
might instead be a bittern
in all its glory the connections here
are all that really matter
conduits in life right before the dark
you came right out of the grass
my common nighthawk i thought you a kite
but instead a light harrier
a ghost on the field under an elm tree
a river of bark flows here
to estuary oh little peewee
so, you've come to my garden
and peeked in at me tonight little squeals
instead of your small soft hoots
dusk conversations I hear the boundaries
with every birdsong here
moving through forest the lattices here
hold symmetries within them
tiling with beauty despite your fullness
you ease into quietness
to set as you rise as you walk along
the slough becomes a river
of flying egrets everyone sits – waits
for you to emerge – and breathe
between the waves here you've left the fir trees
and no longer wake me up
but I found you still your singing this morn
but feeling your way to sound
baby song sparrow what seems like a few
may turn into so much more
with just a small thought you've come to clean up
the currant bush from summer
my little bushtits sometimes you just have
too much creativity
to even function thinking in five – four
changes the rhythm of mind
back into your hands you blend in with leaves
catching the dragonflies here
small bits of yellow what music pours from
us – when we dare to immerse
into that river even when you change
into drab plumage – you shine
in the autumn sun this is time between
the seasons – just delightful
and perfect lighting some days whir on by
and you wonder where they went
and whether you were some gardens yield such
overwhelming abundance
converse with these beds you all splash so much
the birdbath must get refilled
at least thrice a day on the raspberries
in this autumn golden light
hover humming bird sunflowers and chicory
speak of an end to summer
petals and light fall I don't know where, but
you must be somewhere not here
maybe tomorrow? the next day can be
a reminder of how much
you might have borrowed sometimes laziness
brings about algorithms
absolute delight icosahedron
is your perch tonight – half moon
and little bluebird it's that time of life
when the blackbirds line the road
to infinity you came to my feet
beneath the cedar roses
evening grosbeak you see these orange fish
swimming in the reflections
of sky and branches little quail cuddles
along the brick path they then
scurry together sometimes it's making
the puzzle that interests you
more than the solving your curves ground to sky
flow in a glorious green
a cypress beauty sometimes what fractures
is a sign of what is weak
and might need mending when everything stops
you might just hear what's always
running the background my little crossbill
you came right to the garden
to say you are here little canada
you are somewhere between jay
and nuthatch today how you show up here
changes the experience
and the perception rare becomes common
if gratitude changes it
each day a wonder when the sparrows are
back from the summer, we can
rejoice together there is this pink smear
across the night sky, that stays
light clinging to dark to gather before
the seasonal cold flows in
in utter splendor you have waned a bit
and yet illumination
still grasps sky tonight the light changes here
as the mist blows in from sea
waves over the waves sometimes we form here
in the perspective of light
juxtaposed shadow you make the bark move
little brown creepers on oaks
capturing small life find that little crow
among the oak leaves – hidden
wiping their small beak you become conscious
of the moon that sits above
in almost darkness twenty one waxwings
and six grosbeaks - touch shoulders
in one small birdbath you went from water
to dust, to water, to dust
my river otters little hermit thrush
you come so close – to say hi
wisp in the forest
chatter in the oak branches
of a longer day greater yellow-legs
I hear you as the sun sets
tucking in the slough there is resonance
in some of these sounds - patterns
geese in the valley your winter silence
calls us to quiet ourselves
and open our eyes gentle eddies flow
of small, grey, fluffy bushtits
tiny waves of joy your boughs and branches
form ephemeral perches
to hold the half-moon my little wrentit
calling from the blackberry
of December fruits golden grasses catch
light and shadows of white oaks
while tundra swans call this bright winter sun
warms more than the light touches
to radiate forth oh my little wren
you’ve come to greet me with song
on this winter day playing in puddles
your black feathers spread with joy
crows in winter rain good morning, my friend
I see you watching – waiting
for what is to come this bright being here
is a beacon in the slough
of thoughts – for light – peace first star of this night
you seem to have gotten caught
in this trees branches good morning to night
your stars are fading to light
a veil of sunlight this set of five strings
holds infinite melodies
in their potential with all of these nodes
so completely connected
contemplate circuits my towhee - a wisp
this little spirit in flight
calls me to forest I saw Jupiter
but it slipped between branches
and into the fog a quiet that comes
when all of your buzzing stops
compresses – expands with such precision
you place each little treasure
between these spaces you call little notes
and listen for little notes
connecting through woods sometimes – just stay put
and take in the light – for there’s
fog in the valley a pocket of light
manifested between mist
and opened to blue there you are up there
moving along this tree bark
no gravity here oh! good morning friends
you have brought with you such caws
tell me about it the stitches we sew
that hold these materials
bring texture – beauty the grid of orchards
when moved, holds such surprises
tunnels in tunnels little flash of red
just around the white oak tree
downy woodpecker your white feathers turn
to light purplish blue
as the sun tucks in I glimpsed you in trees
large orange sliver – at the edge
of the horizon at the bottom here
in late light sustaining – faint
you are framed by trees come, come, come my friends
drink and drink and gather at the well
of friendship and warmth I mourn for so much
the loss of now – of future
of beautiful light to identify
is not the same as knowing
to know is to see connecting here – now
iterates and manifests
more circuits of hope when I see robins
I see you – and your beauty
a presence through time it’s that morning cup
of something warm and so fragrant
that gives the day breath across the locus
connected – a chord becomes
a bridge to one’s self I want to knit this
fiber of my small being
into the aether you are just on time
at dusk over green meadow
I hoped you’d be here oh my! puddle friends
so many of you have come
to splash in the sky sometimes - you need to
catch up to the current – flow
to then meander somehow I missed you
but just as I turned to leave
I truly saw you with wide toes you ground
energy connected here
to give way to grass when you find some tracks
what is the story to tell?
imagine - nature I’m thinking of you
as the egrets roam the field
and the sun nestles the clouds just moved in
and the blue sky went away
a winter grey day how many fingers
through human history have
played with bark of trees an infinite sum
can defy your intuition
open to wonder you hover right there
to touch what nourishes you
with grace in your flight you gurgle at me
with your beak wipes on the bough
good morning my friend the breath is sometimes
all we have – focus on in
then out - just breathing oh, little warblers
you have gathered in my yard
with rumps of sunshine white little orchid
welcome to your new window
may you bloom and grow what seems to be same
may just surprise you – and be
a whole new species oh, little banjo
I just tuned you into A
droning moon of strings robins on gravestones
in flocks of redbreasted glee
conversing with life a yellow flicker
integrade – a palette of
an ice age melted in the meeting house
there is glory when I play
eyes-closed - clawhammer this contemplation
has brought you to the grains
of such fine detail when searching for owls
you might find yourself in fields
with a herd of elk lean into that tree
and let it ground you through roots
let your branches sway you ask me to rise
just before the sun rises
with your springtime call there might be a bow
in the neck of this banjo
head under tension someone once told me
if you don’t share what’s hidden
others might not see such giants live here
at the edge of the meadow
cottonwood forest the last winter’s leaf
hangs from your bough, and is moved
to wave at springtime it’s hard not to fret
you might have to just slide down
for a moment first up there at the top
you nestle down in the warmth
of little owlettes the eye of the mind
is but words, concepts, and sound
for some – I see not maybe you endow
consciousness upon this rock
through contemplation you think most your thoughts
are made of what is between
words and sound and color your small dreams are here
under the sheets of your thoughts
waiting to be felt so many wood ducks
up in the tops of the trees
harbingers of spring unable to do
you might, instead, choose to be
here for a moment when you look up high
then, take a break, you might find
an eye-level owl trust your inner thoughts
to form beauty with the ink
of poetic light what is even yours?
everything is from something
a derivative I see five of you
at the edge of the night woods
goodnight my deer friends such a sleepless night
the birds in the windy trees
holding on so tight generative thoughts
integrating randomness
into this being little short eared owl
when will you arrive up north
among the lemmings sometimes the strong winds
thin and clean the crossing twigs
sometimes get topped the thoughts about trees
come in these bountiful waves
and then at times ebb just when you need it
some sort of confirmation
the pelicans came these little bluebirds
have chosen this little home
to spend their springtime countable is not
for every robin I hear
there is one between you turn around this
little sphere with your cycle
celestial dance the conversations
with the weeds in the small cracks
are of struggle – light blossoms do abound
with little pink petals here
dancing in the wind the beauty of time
is that it only exists
for that one moment this little droplet
gathers on your small petal
magnifying you you’ve chosen our home!
to nest and share your little
bluebird fluffs of joy my fairy slipper
you’ve manifested early
may the bees find you little buffleheads
you have graced the water with
your new fluffy raft oh, how you take off
in a sudden jolt of flight
when rafts become skeins the diversity
of greens, of contours, of form
in the garden bed you’ve graced this pink tree
with your attention to her
loving nooks for nests wow, you sure are loud
in the hour before sunnrise
sing goodbye to night who wouldn’t choose
this little nest with blossoms
gracing the threshold I’m so glad you’re back
or were you only silent?
oh! to hear your song your fracture of self
has left an opening here
to sprout ferns – hold nests backyard metronome
you tweeee right on cue – towheeee
joy to my ears – tweeee it is the angle
that you tilt your head – listen
to waves of ocean thank the ones who love
and care for the blooming trees
for they bring blossoms a little prayer
you say for the strawberries
to cover the ground it seems I was here
to make sure the gate is wide
and open for you tonight you all sit
in a puddle of peach dusk
a chorus of frogs my little snow goose
I hear your call all alone
as you fly in search there are so many
leaves in this little garden
a microcosm knowing what to do
can feel so impossible
so, just do your best oh my yellow rump
you are chasing off the birds
“be gone” chickadee! I dug up the thyme
along the sidewalk my friend
for your sweet garden this small whirlwind
of warblers dances in this
garden of delight you can feel the change
– and the steps you need to take
become oh so clear wow! you are a poof!
a verifyable borb!
my little junco you have a hard time
with all of the inputs – sound
It’s ok to spin my little warlber
you’ve reminded me of why
I stop to listen when I walk with you
I sometimes can’t remember
the paths that we took pushing through the fog
might just end in glorious
end-to-end rainbows the maximizing
of the space within your mind
to hold emptiness so, how many minds
have thought the thoughts you think
and then let them go with hand in the soil
cultivate the bounty here
nurture these small roots blessed is this small pond
for the green herons and frogs
lily pad flowers I hear your zee-zee
at the tips of flowering
branches – there you sing you’re guarding this field
past sunset and into dusk
bluebird on night sky incredible mess
you keep leaving in this bath
who gave you peanuts? look at all of you there!
gathering mud for your nests
at the river’s edge the small swaths of land
between the waters and slough
hold us to listen your little pink blooms
call the bees to greet you here
my little hawthorne at light’s border here
I see a forest both here
and then gone – landslide there are these moments
that seem to resonate – here
in sounds of warblers this is such a bath
with your black feathers spread out
shimmering in sun oh, you woke me up
with your song at the tree tops
western tanager some mornings are just
a little memorable
mole in the birdbath I thought I’d awake
to the sound of tanagers
but, it’s you! my wren! I sit and kneel here
just to look at your beauty
my camas lily you scritch your head here
on this small branch by the slough
embody cuteness the smell of camas
as you wade through tides of grass
smell of summer chives you quietly wait
in the shad on the fig tree
for me to say hi when you get into
a rhythm that drives your feet
your heart must join in the disappointment
of what people choose to do
Instead of create tonight I look up
and ponder abstract orbits
in fields of moonlight oh my! look at you!
with your stunning blue feathers
garden to rooftop with but a small breath
you might take in breaths of past
maybe an atom grow there in the rocks
with your little pink petals
bloom in this garden you might just breathe deep
enough that you forget you
and lose yourself here the ripples from flow
seem to morph and rotate some
to create their own little torch lilies
hold these little sweet pockets
for your little beak there's a lemniscate
in which you walk quite often
crossing at a point drop thumb on the strings
to establish your rhythm
and navigate through in this rocking chair
I wonder just how many
have nursed their babies soccer at the park
banjo on the small park bench
a summer moment I saw you – right there
moving from water to reed
my hidden sora it doesn’t matter
where you stand upon this earth
sunlight points at you what splendor there is
in this small springtime garden
blooming peonies you popped out in front
with your mouth full on the road
and crossed with such spunk modular sandpiles
seem to roll within the grids
beauty in the math you lost little crow
I see you are so quiet
I'm sorry my friend the flycatcher might
be flying at your feet as
you look at the sky contemplating light
coming through this small garden
and then to nourish vectors are but these
connections from origin
to your elements right before sunset
you notice the directness
celestial light this new little growth
coming from your small branches
spring manifested shake those little wings
my sweet baby chickadee
signals of new life what is contained here
a concentration of thought
placed into a book aphantasia
you're in the realm of concepts
without any sight this perception here
of how the time passes by
only exists now a sad mystery
I just know that you are gone
you are remembered chicka-dee-dee-dee
you sit in this small fig tree
hopping to spiders I see you scolded
by the black-headed grosbeak
my little barred owl you have packed the trees
with little small fluffs of joy
tree swallow forest the streak across sky
will be in my memory
on the porch with you I am hoping that
both of these clutches make it
through this changing world you are together
on the full kale, and it bows
to your weight and joy the loops that you form
will shape and mold you each round
like water on sand you seem to sneak in
just as the silence settles
nestling in flowers an evening sky
turned from blue into purple
with accents of pink imagine a self
that is the derivation
of its existence rolling blueberries
down the dirt piles
the scrub jays look on there is murkiness
in the way we show up here
and the ripples left oh, little flicker
you are calling so, so loud
your mother will come here, I am grateful
for the sunset that we shared
present with otters my little bluebird
you sit in front of the moon
and above your nest the light and shadow
define the water droplet
the lunes and lenses time for transition
don't fall back into the loops
seamlessly move you are blossoming
with the last light of the day
with peach and purple I came to see birds
and before I started – you
flew in for berries oh my pretty birds
you reach out with your wide mouths
you hungry babies your bobbing that butt
in and out of the water
with such a rhythm playing on the porch
with baby swallows
setting the rhythm beauty within sky
reflected in the birdbath
bathing in the clouds no more rookery
you are all in sitka sedge
my great blue herons I know I'm startled
from the sounds of destruction
oh my nesting birds sometimes a small walk
isn't what you need to do
maybe just lie down oh little swallows
you are now starting to fledge
but come in to rest smears of clouds in sky
catch the light and diffuse it
into this splendor your estimation
refines with every guess
an intuition these three little birds
on the branch in the slough – perched
shoulder to shoulder a refocusing
of light – and of you – of self
changes existence all these things we hold
captures of memory – held
on memory soil in your hands
moves to and around this plant
a beginning here to speak this language
is to think in its structure
to learn a new thought the wonder of this
might not be realized by some
oh, what we consume I hear your small chirps
as the house finches land there
on the wrong birdhouse night before the fast
you think through your day's motions
in preparation you appear to dance
with each other in night's sky
yet so far apart these little flowers
push the soil to reach the bees
with no need for light so, moderation
is for the times when the figs
are not in season your thin wisps align
then turn and cross each other
braided sunset clouds the piano keys
remember your touch, even
when it's been so long beauty in stories
is beauty in life - nature
reflections of earth the disks of white lace
scatter the field at sunset
intricate beauty you walk beneath her
and she arches over you
in this small embrace here, you feel separate
growth away from soil you know
and into the rocks you surface and spout
then your little one follows
feeding together here some days are just so
beautiful they carry you
forward to the next there you are – between
the trees – above the roof – bright
and orange in summer there are syllables
that have the rhythm of heart
beating from within some days are like loops
not sure which one you are on
but at least you're here you can feel the change
the summer slipping away
the night comes so fast sitting in the grass
he trimmed each blade at the edge
in remembrance you fledged while I slept
it's so quiet this morning
my little bluebirds I see you up there
beak open, it's so smokey
here's water my friend all the little lungs
that have no refuge from smoke
I am so sorry you came in so bold
to the water – in the smoke
to drink – my crossbill these curves – strings and weights
form them into abstractness
art from arrangement I just sat and cried
and held you – then suddenly
you woke – and took flight you came back today
I'm so grateful to see you
my little crossbill some of these small loops
are the hardest to to sever
it might take scissors somedays fly on by
a blur of the loops we walk
written in a smudge the sound of summer
crickets keeping time at night
Saturn dips below eclipse memories
when I am on the other
side of this small world something about me
brought you to come and say hi
little humming bird this slough has ebbed out
leaving the mud for finches
and the green heron you streak across sky
as the sun dims, you fill it
with your flutters - fly morning – I found you
under the raspberry leaf
your shelter last night sometimes you need songs
that speak of the end coming
when you are half way a stick in the mud
might instead be a bittern
in all its glory the connections here
are all that really matter
conduits in life right before the dark
you came right out of the grass
my common nighthawk i thought you a kite
but instead a light harrier
a ghost on the field under an elm tree
a river of bark flows here
to estuary oh little peewee
so, you've come to my garden
and peeked in at me tonight little squeals
instead of your small soft hoots
dusk conversations I hear the boundaries
with every birdsong here
moving through forest the lattices here
hold symmetries within them
tiling with beauty despite your fullness
you ease into quietness
to set as you rise as you walk along
the slough becomes a river
of flying egrets everyone sits – waits
for you to emerge – and breathe
between the waves here you've left the fir trees
and no longer wake me up
but I found you still your singing this morn
but feeling your way to sound
baby song sparrow what seems like a few
may turn into so much more
with just a small thought you've come to clean up
the currant bush from summer
my little bushtits sometimes you just have
too much creativity
to even function thinking in five – four
changes the rhythm of mind
back into your hands you blend in with leaves
catching the dragonflies here
small bits of yellow what music pours from
us – when we dare to immerse
into that river even when you change
into drab plumage – you shine
in the autumn sun this is time between
the seasons – just delightful
and perfect lighting some days whir on by
and you wonder where they went
and whether you were some gardens yield such
overwhelming abundance
converse with these beds you all splash so much
the birdbath must get refilled
at least thrice a day on the raspberries
in this autumn golden light
hover humming bird sunflowers and chicory
speak of an end to summer
petals and light fall I don't know where, but
you must be somewhere not here
maybe tomorrow? the next day can be
a reminder of how much
you might have borrowed sometimes laziness
brings about algorithms
absolute delight icosahedron
is your perch tonight – half moon
and little bluebird it's that time of life
when the blackbirds line the road
to infinity you came to my feet
beneath the cedar roses
evening grosbeak you see these orange fish
swimming in the reflections
of sky and branches little quail cuddles
along the brick path they then
scurry together sometimes it's making
the puzzle that interests you
more than the solving your curves ground to sky
flow in a glorious green
a cypress beauty sometimes what fractures
is a sign of what is weak
and might need mending when everything stops
you might just hear what's always
running the background my little crossbill
you came right to the garden
to say you are here little canada
you are somewhere between jay
and nuthatch today how you show up here
changes the experience
and the perception rare becomes common
if gratitude changes it
each day a wonder when the sparrows are
back from the summer, we can
rejoice together there is this pink smear
across the night sky, that stays
light clinging to dark to gather before
the seasonal cold flows in
in utter splendor you have waned a bit
and yet illumination
still grasps sky tonight the light changes here
as the mist blows in from sea
waves over the waves sometimes we form here
in the perspective of light
juxtaposed shadow you make the bark move
little brown creepers on oaks
capturing small life find that little crow
among the oak leaves – hidden
wiping their small beak you become conscious
of the moon that sits above
in almost darkness twenty one waxwings
and six grosbeaks - touch shoulders
in one small birdbath you went from water
to dust, to water, to dust
my river otters little hermit thrush
you come so close – to say hi
wisp in the forest
Words by frequency: little, here, small, light, there, tree, come, see, sky, thought, sometimes, night, through, beauty, day, garden, then, time, water, hold, between, sound, friend, branches, seem, summer, one, hear, sun, change, bird, out, call, look, before, slough, came, right, wave, sit