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Backyard Winter

The A-frame swing-set stands
silent without children,
its ropes probe straight
into snow for empty seats.

Now just half its length,
the slide is hardly worth a ride.

The neighbour's quiet yard
is just a short leg-lift away,
but I won't go today,
there are no trails to follow.

Standing in the corner,
forty years tall,
the somber pine guards
summer green.

Published in TOPS Newsletter - Jan, 2005



The Moon and War

When I get up at five and see the moon
clutched firmly in the branches of a tree,
I wonder why men go to war, and gods
and folly were invented for that time.

Unseen from here, the great long sea
stretches and chases this bright lamp
that hangs still as silent gods and foolish men
cry beneath a sun that burns that distant land.

That long supple sea cannot reach this black
tree that cradles the moon, the men and me
with our foolish gods who, with hidden thread,
bind this morning scene like some whole cloth.

The birds chirp and chatter at each other,
the leafless tree releases the slow moon
and the sharp sun cracks the black horizon
before I can unwrap the cloth or hear
the gods speak about why men go to war.



Published in the Anthology "Witness"
by Serengeti Press - Nov. 2004