Dark

Dark,

& the sound of crickets 

3 Versions

Dark, cold night--
in a sweater and no socks,
eating ice cream alone.

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Sad-eating ice cream 
in a sweater and no socks.
Boy, are my feet cold!

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Sad-eating ice cream 
in a sweater and no socks-- 
white noise of TV.

8/13/14-- 2 Versions.

Dark periwinkle
curves of clouds, lit by the
bright yellow moon.  Super!


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Dark periwinkle
curves of clouds, lit by the
bright yellow Supermoon.

5/17/14

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

8/2/11

In the city,
only buildings are beautiful.
Anemic trees host squirrels
who seem more like rats than do
their bushy country cousins.
City sparrows look best bathing in a
man-made fountain, hopping
daintily from one concrete block
to another.

Maybe that's why I like the city at night:
dark obscures the trash of the streets;
white, golden domes of civic centers shine pure;
the squirrels have retired into the trees;
sparrows have hopped to shelters under eaves;
and only people, their lights, their batteries, their phones
show,
instead of natural reminders of destruction.
And in this dark, it's easy to look away from sights
that don't fit my versions of beauty.

White ghost and dark page...

White ghost and dark page,
sun upon the water-- night
approaches alone.

6/21/10

In these hours dark,
your snores are reassuring
and I'm not afraid.

Not a Haiku: Dreamtime (Written for American Poetry Class in 1992/3)

Dreamtime

I,

pulling on black trousers, belt, and shoes emerge man.
It is not worthy of note as I stroll that
I am unsure of the new
shoes,
pants,
belt,
and walk with the quickness
of a fear that reaches up
and taps a woman on the shoulder
like footsteps
following
in the dark.

Can You Tell I Find the Fog Depressing?

All Written Yesterday:



The hills' bright green dulled
by thick grey fog -- even the
sun's bright orb is dimmed.

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Fog curls dark fingers
around the tips of trees. Grey
darkens the bright green.

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Why do I seem sad?
Even the sun struggles to
pierce this dank morning!