Making Bread

Making Bread The lungs of bread are blackened by smokeand heavy machinery weeps.Children stand outside schoolsrefusing to play with their toys,while a flower breaks its neck in a high speed chaseand a check is written to pay for eight new fighter-bombers. Maybe this...
The Yellow Bird

The Yellow Bird

The Yellow Bird Some things are too big to see.We glimpse only the edge of a shadowpassing over the sky or across a wide valley.Perhaps we hear it in a sudden wisp of silence,or in a whiff of cloud, or in the whisperof a scent that can’t quite be placed in memory,as...

Bright Prize

bright prize oh, you should see the sparkling light through wet treesas the birds come and go from their feeders this morning wildwind flapping all the new leaves like green prayer flags andeven the clumsy gray squirrel comes by slipping on the wet porch railingand...