The Depth of the Mirror

There is no other in this glaze— where in the eye is always I— and where a you is only haze or mere polish to clarify. Narcissism

In Summer Expectancy

This May rain :: dull sheen on stone, chill wind-shook-leaves— apple blossom buds. Responding to the day and the prompt: Premature

Wind clacks in willows A Meadow Lark whistles I will sit a while. Still.

Old man’s eyes scan blue beyond cottonwood grove where child saw orange bird.

Yellow dandelions Lawn mower :: heads cut off Green :: so bland and plain.

Thunder quiet now-- Why does he hear, from willow thicket, a magpie's complaint. Daily Post Core

Bitter root blooms, old man won’t turn head to see fog-veils lift off Maiden Breast Hill,

Petals of pansies for our garden :: Who left outside thunder :: hail tatters.

Black cows graze new grass— cranes dance among the calves— Still :: raven rides the sky.

Blue sky :: May dawn blushes Maiden Breast Hills— noisome magpie :: aagk aagk aagk