It’s early morning and nothing’s happening
It’s early morning and nothing’s happening, neither the coming of light nor awakening sounds. You sleep as the house clings to a nighttime chill, no lights within it nor without. Awakening, I’m awakened, seemingly my own self as stars begin to fade and lingering deep dreams seek further shores. It’s early, muscle, bone, and stomach have yet to protest as this tomorrow somehow sneaks all around me and, again, consecrates our...
Read MoreCauldron
The cauldron of sunset Slight rain across the forest A tree’s calm presence, its roots deep under the surface of things, hidden within earthen mold and a mightier silence A tree’s calm presence, a tree’s calm presence A mightier silence of earth.
Read MoreLast Days of Uncle Arnold (a poem series)
I see you perched on a Nebraska hay bale communing with your delirium while all around the rolling Sand Hills gently beckon to one whose life was lived among them. these Sand Hills, this ranch, home for far-journeying winds, sandhill cranes and willful, way- ward nieces and nephews Nebraska hayfield brother, cousins, uncle and grandma’s dinner bell our rancher uncle as the cancer advances I drive the pickup on a last outdoor errand checking on his newborn...
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