NOVEMBER'S LOVE CHILD
The full moon enlightens us
as wet cut lemon slices
for a Japanese tea
a friend of ours
writes out my initials
on the acorn falling oak tree
after dragging orange red leaves
by a laughing love child
we know too well
once orphaned and frightened
on the dry ground
was once almost left behind
in this close knit neighborhood
when deer were around
wanting to make friends
as his eyes search twigs
acorns, fruits and nuts
near our picnic table
by the serious flash of wind
in the rejoined woods
under the stumps and trunk
hearing the songbird sound
with his earth-wise lyric
we fall on a blanket silent
trying to capture a picture
of this motioning landscape.
IN THE WHITE MOUNTAINS
Covered by the mute sun's
high afternoon dust
hiking in a deft weary range
with a poet's November shiver
remembering the cool air
riddled with orange kites
on a high space mountain
at a first frosty arctic wind
hearing tangled voices
on a branch of sparrows
singing a fine tune
entangled in small eternities
on a fresh airy peak
handing a red apple
to a thoughtful friend
and a wounded doctor
who restored the life
someone who had a poison
in his personality
embedded in the last war
known for his debates
in sixth grade English class
now on his once soccer knees
by lifted up songbirds
and a cicada chorus
almost covered by leaves
a lone robin wanders near us
with a tangled wounded wing
from an explosive truck wheel
saying a childhood prayer
we all begin to heal.
THE FALL HIKER
We return
following country roads
near Walden Pond
hearing the winds
snapping on Elm trees
quenched by thirst
dazzled by landscape
as in a Hawthorne novel
with a rucksack
full of bottles of water,
crackers, and trail mix
with a ringed memory
of sunrises, bird sounds,
and pocket verses
still yearning for my kayak
as gulls of animation
fly by our woodsy cabin
in the desolate forest
under this Elm
which will not reject us
but embrace our nature.
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