talk with birds

i wish i could talk with birds

that would make it easier to communicate, although hummers

do pretty well eyeball to eyeball

like the little Anna’s who chided

me through the window for allowing

the red, liquid treat to be depleted

or my zebra finch who patted

my hair as i reached into their cage

to give them fresh seed and water

or the snowy owl who watched me

standing in awe admiring him

and turned nearly full circle, posing

so i could have the full experience

of his splendor

or the osprey dad who glanced at me

as, worried, too, i watched

with him his oldest chick

gathering courage for its

first flight from the rugged nest high

on the platform of a utility pole

still, their plaintive cries or smiley

chirps and twitters leave me wondering

if their sounds mean to them what

their calls stir within my own emotions

i wish i were wise enough to understand

tottering throne

 wrestling with my dismay

at the moral decay while

knowing with my mind

it is a distraction from discovering

who or what is the power behind

the visibly tottering throne

courage to laugh

 a friend in pain whose laughter

entices smiles from those around her

now, that is what i call courage

rattle-brained

rattle-brained implies

return to rattle shaking

child of play and bliss

pledge a loyalty

we pledge a loyalty to the red tie

and to the republicans for which

it stands, one country, under maga

irreconcilable, with liberty and justice

for all except those on the list deemed

a rival party or people

—poor us, Bluffo

sunrise insistent

sunrise insistent

 (haiku)

peach-orange streaks widen

‘tween purple-indigo clouds

dawn insists on life

skin of tranquility

skin of tranquility

fragile barrier between busy-ness

and quietly being in the world

consciously brought about by will

and concentrated emptying

of distractions to focus on what is

like derm, thin envelope only

not shield of iron or woven mail

of copper or steel, but, unlike metal

living membrane that allows passage

exchange of sustenance of soul, senses

texture of the rock i sit on

smell of blue-purple violets huddling

near my left foot, imagined delicate pealing

of the lilies of the valley wafted

by placid breeze and truly heard faint

whimper of newborn cub or kitten

left long alone while mother forages

taste of earth’s renewing cycle of life

and death and enrichment of new life

skin we need to nurture to find

ourselves within the wholeness

of what finally matters over time

flutter butter

kids’ speak ‘flutter bys’

became ‘butterflies’ bringing

warm, adult smiles

toddler raised

(haiku)

daddy lifts toddler

as if tossing to blue sky

son gasps, trusts, giggles

paper tigers, paper people

paper tigers, paper people

without depth of character

or understanding for compassion

torn by conflicting ideas

needing settled truths

even those dictated by authority unquestioned

uncomfortable being challenged

to consider let alone comprehend

beyond the labels of good and evil

but ready to castigate, to punish

any who come to other conclusions

feeling righteous, these paper tigers

can acquire fang and claw

look, there’s that blue planet

look, there’s that blue planet again

the one with the face of a woman

and that tiny white moon

with the face of a man

no wonder they’re always side by side

by rounded side

too attracted to each other

for either to go away but each going

her or his own way, revolving, rotating

but sticking close - how funny

their gyrations look from here

I can’t imagine what their inhabitants

if they have any

see from where they are

pinked

 (haiku)

hint, indication

unfulfilled but possible

flower bud now pinked

zebra kiss

zebra finches raised for years

in huge squawking cage

and each day i reach in

with clean water and seed

this morning, one of the boys

who often sings on the plastic branch

near my face as i bend in

with the treats, pecked me softly

in the hair with his orange beak

an acknowledgement of love

if i’ve ever felt one

fauna symphony

cunning that the sounds birds

and animals trill or caw or rumble

are subtly attune in pitch and timing

to be heard by their own between

and among all the others

if we could detect flora communication

would it, too, be finely interwoven?

illusions

 (haiku)

illusions still may

shelter truth as in smoked glass

needing clear vision

author error

years now of blossoming characters

growing in themselves, celebrated

by judges but not the stories

they create by interacting

another rejection, another intimation

that i, their transcriber, am their burier

perhaps by submitting to publishers

i know rather than those who

would believe in what they tell

two white boots

 two gleaming white boots

ready for toddler’s exploration

of the consistencies of mud

whispered stories

slow in the back room of the bazaar

as many customers were no aware

there was more to see

but hours to spend with author friends

chatting first, then talking, reminiscing

revealing more of the memories

that created who we are

ah, to have beside us those we trust

dawn directions

haiku

 brilliant pink-orange east

dawn reclaiming from gray mists

moving sunrise north

headlong into hellfire

gentle souls conquer without winning

testing further their compassion

toward their tormentors

deepening their humbleness

but heaping coals of fire on the heads

of those diving into the hellfire

of bitter littleness and loss