Four Untitled Poems
A kestrel hovers in sunlight
It calls to those
who can see it
I walk through the morning door
I return through the evening door
I walk through this morning’s door
and this evening I will not return.
days of rain
glide under the footbridge
an older me
whom failures relinquish
rain-fed acolyte
a follower of rivers
Constant celebrants of
a boundless Mardi Gras
Thrumming our melodies
within echoes of footfalls
from each and all of us
Well, imagine that!
Thrumming our melodies
within echoes of footfalls
from each and all of us!