Nature’s Decorum (A Cascade Poem published in The Avocet) Deep in the woods, I let go of proper decorum. Distant neighbors will not hear me howl. As the moon sends forth her magic beams, Diana drives her chariot across the sky. No one will see me dance with wild abandon as morning star Venus sends forth her light or evening star Venus greets the crescent moon. Deep in the woods, I let go of proper decorum. Coyotes celebrate the moon and become song dogs. Domestic dogs may join with yaps of memory as silent Sirius faithfully follows Orion skyward. Distant neighbors will not hear me howl. Fancy seizes me on active, sleepless nights. I sit on my porch and watch the dipper rise, seek the bear in stars made faint by city lights. As the moon sends forth her magic beams. I imagine druids dancing beneath the oaks as friends gather at a fire with drums and chants. Sun and moon strike stones of distant lands, and Diana drives her chariot across the sky.
Hellbender (A poem in rhyming stanzas, published in Tennessee Magazine) She curls among the tumbled rocks and waits for a crayfish dinner. If she doesn’t find a crawdad soon, tomorrow, she will be thinner. She will happily eat a frog or fish, for she’s an agile swimmer. But the crawdad is her favorite dish, it causes her eye to glimmer. Beneath the rocks, she laid her eggs. There must have been a hundred or more. At parenting, she is the dregs. She ate a few just to even the score. Her mate saw this act and chased her away If she ate eggs, she couldn’t stay. He guarded those eggs till they hatched one day. Then he swam away much slimmer.
Sonnet III (A Petracharan Sonnett Published in The Weekly Avocet) So does the drought give birth to quenching rain, as heat of day gives way to cooler night. The arctic bear to northern sky takes flight. With darkness ended, sun must rise again. The Turquoise sky aflame with salmon-red As clouds leap fish-like from the eastern rim. Across the watery sky, we see them skim. When evening comes, the turquoise blue has fled. As thirsty people cry for quenching rain, and leaves of trees like paper scorched by sun. The heat-parched winds must cross the dusty plain. Dry ferns uncurl like newfound life begun. The soul revives where once despair had lain, And seeds shall sprout as life must have its run. Sonnett II Social Distancing (A Shakespearean Sonnett) I scorn all those cities with so-called delights, And seek shelter from electronic chaff. Find the key to my pleasure on nature's heights Shed my suit for khaki and a hiking staff. O whisk me away to those yonder days. I promise to give the landscape its due. When the morning sky glows in salmon and blue where wind with leaves so often plays. Though rain might fall, my clothing to drench, I stick to the trails with a softer hue I'll celebrate nature, not hide in a trench, As smoke must rise from a neighboring flue. Keep your highways and cities conveniently planned. I'll happily travel to a more distant land.
Volcano at Rest (A Haiban published in The Weekly Avocet) Only textbook volcanoes are smooth-sided cones with a perfect ring of fire at the top. I have never visited the volcanoes of Hawaii or the Pacific Northwest, but the mountains of photographic reality have ridges and valleys. Even streams abound. I imagine a walk in the mist to peer into the lost world of a caldera where lava hotter than curry with turmeric and chilis whispers, “I am quiet for now, but just you wait.” Sleeping mountain Villages adorn its sides Rudely awakened