friday morning

http://www.flickr.com/photos/rebelwithafrog/4198790397/
singing down to the soil
beneath my shoes.
my heart beats frantic
like the wind.
it carries me to the horizon
and the sunrise listens.
there is a busy new day waiting
with a simple calm.
i can tell
by the way the sparrows flutter in the trees,
by the way the colors blend in the sky.
and I shall soon be to work.

Memorial Day

Memorial Day 5-30-94

The crickets chirp.
The crow caws.
The pinwheel squeaks
in the wind.
The dog barks.
The bug crawls on my knee.
The old man plants flowers
in the distance.
Roughly eight o'clock p.m.
and eighty degrees.
Summertime.
The squirrels are busy
and the grass has grown for the day.
The trees whisper at dusk.
The sun has gone
and the night rolls in.
The cemetery is closing,
come again.