Category Archives: small stones

(for Chris Flisher) Late dusk, a springtime conjunction of red — Mars and a male cardinal high in the same pine behind the same house.

Night’s ice has split the tin bucket but from the holly bush comes berry and birdsong.

Past midnight a doe browses the lilies, the poison ivy while moonlight lingers on the tallest pine. Three bodies moving in the dark.

Near no house a kitchen knife gleams in the crossroads gravel

Overcast morning dawn is a faded cardinal over the worn stone wall

Four days with no mail enough time for a new vine to wrap around the mailbox latch.

High noon – two hawks and a wasp circle the sun

Fourth of July fireflies too slow, too easily caught by little hands

Distant dogs hear the thunder just before I do, their barks like lightning.

Over the incense of our tandoori and cabernet the Boston man at the next table says grace, beneath the image of Vishnu.