My drifting thoughts a window sonnet form,
and through its panes I watch my neighbor
uproot unruly flowering – scilla thatswarm
to bloom his clipped back yard. He labors
to quench beauty that disrupts his will,
spills across his borders, trims his gait –
it staggers like a fly upon my sill
and ducking towards me, dives beneath my gate.
Tiny Roman candles, intermittent
bursts of blue, will kindle, sparking green –
along the fuse beneath the earth in winter,
will spread in my uneven turf, and stream
revelation till the end erase
order in the vacant lots of space.
Fish Moon – April
When old leaves broke from branches, buds fit
tight to each notch, shining and dark, to fend
off withering blasts of winter – anger lit
my words that froze, metallic sun sent
doubt doubling back on me like smoke, past
the last marauder, the tumbling wake
of near despair. Now, wonder opens, last
river ice dismembering. Danger breaks
through, currycombs the redgrass foal – the shad
fry slip off spawned. The sky expects the pond,
slides in, claims it. Frogs edge the shore, add
insistent rasp – footprint of ground phlox, flood.
April rises wild. Such risk in giving
bares my panicked heart, the lance of living.