135. Blackbirds at Noon

Blackbirds at noon,
feeding on the lawn
and in the fields.

Stragglers rest
upon the prickly, bare
branches, swaying
in the biting breeze:

As one by one,
they join the others,
there is always the
one
resting
solitary
in the
trees

Explain to me,
how even among these
mundane
creatures
there are
poets, staring at the
mid-day
sun,
pondering the
infiniteness of
the world

Else,
it is my
ridiculous
anthropomorphic
personification,
projected upon
unassuming
subjects

He is simply tired
from a day’s
flight;
full from the
last meal;
He joins them,
all the same,
in due time.

And I am left here,
watching,
until by some fluke,
they all steal away,
black ribbons on a
stony sky

and I remain,
wondering if it is
foolish to be
too
pensive

134. Cherub

Dearest one:
blankets spread,
scattered
on the bed,
legs splayed
at an unnaturally
natural
angle;

How many years
it has been
since we were
both young,
carefree –

could I wish
you would retain
the happinesses
only youth
affords
and that life
will be
kind
to
you

Cheeks flushed from
a day of
activity,
breathing slow and
deep, contented
oxygen filling each
breath –

Exuberance,
tempered by the quiet night;
plush dog
in tow,
I am at once
completely at
one
yet an
intruder all the
same

In such
imperfect repose
do we find the sweetest
joys –

133. Skins of our fathers

After the rain,
the frightened insects
emerge,
surveying the damage,
knowing this battered land
is what remains
and what must be
lived through.

How many tears have irrigated
this unruly soil in
vain?

Suns will one day emerge,
but how, but
when?

In such darkness and
uncertainty, how
strong must one be,
to trust,
to hope!