For Maia

The window's closed,

but I hear birds. Maybe

they're discussing Spring.

The beauty of seagulls...

The beauty of seagulls—
often obscured by trash and french fries in parking lots—
But here! 
Dots on blue green waves, 
heads tucked into white feathers, 
sleeping circles on brown sand.

25 Weeks Ago

Fresh seaweed dots
the tide, the rocks, the sand.
Gulls' feet imprint all. --------------

Bird sanctuary--
sandpipers feed undisturbed--
muddy, squishy sand.

7w Ago

In a big flock,
even pigeons
look beautiful.

Written yesterday

Sunny cold:--
a flock of white polka dots 
over blue waters.


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Ah! Finally warm!
I hope I remember this 
when the bill comes.

Red leaves falling...

Red leaves falling -- 
Cat watches birds in the rain 
from the window.

Summer's last hurrah....

Summer's last hurrah--
songbirds, the smell of peaches,
and careless sunburns.

A Couple Versions

Cat head disappears
into a ball of fur --
apples bake, birds tweet.

------------

Cat head disappears
into a ball of fur --
winds blow browning leaves.

------------

Winds blow browning leaves--
cat's head disappears
into a ball of fur.

A Couple Versions

Cat head disappears
into a ball of fur --
apples bake, birds tweet.

------------

Cat head disappears
into a ball of fur --
winds blow browning leaves.

------------

Winds blow browning leaves--
cat's head disappears
into a ball of fur.

February

 

February,
but through the open window
birdsong. 

Don't worry, Blackbird.

Don't worry, Blackbird.
There are enough ripe berries
for both of us.

A better version, I think.

O, White Butterfly
in the green water plants,
beware the birds!

From Last Night

At dusk,
birdsong and warm wind--
and the smell of tacos. 


In the stifling room,
voices talk of freedom,
hope, love... And the heat.


Evergreen trees
shake gently in the breeze,
swaying to birdsong. 

9/1/14

Summer's end?  Not here:
black and white birds fly past
parched grass to a green tree.

8/31/14

Brown trees-- no water

to sustain them, nor the birds

lighting on their branches.

8/5/14

Small birds devour
seeds -- movement
in muggy inertia.

8/17/14

Grimy city, full
of human misery. Where
are the grass, trees, birds? 


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By all accounts of the well-traveled, San Francisco is a relatively clean city.  But that's not how it seemed to me this particular day.

5/17/14

Yellow moon, lighting
dark sky. No birdsong until
morning sun appears.

Opening windows...

Opening windows
to fresh breezes and birdsong,
l listen and breathe.

Summer sun glares down...

Summer sun glares down--
a crow hops in the shade 
of an old oak tree.