Kate

a massive stroke
the last leaf of autumn
takes forever to fall

the artist

tonight at dusk
a god will paint the sky
with watercolours

The dialectic of beauty.

Some are beautiful
only when they are awake.
And vice versa.

window shopping

in a shop window
I spy an anxious clumsy youth
and a grown man

deceit

feet up, head back
she waits for an answer
knuckles white

pine box

in summer
in a pine box in the city
grows a pine

never not young

night bus,
an old couple, eyes wrinkled
only for each other

a bus ride

afternoon rush
hair on a strangers neck
unbound

zephyr

a zephyr
wakes me from my nap ‒
a passing dove

To whom it may concern

everything I
know about you
is in a book
that I keep
in my head

the club

at the club they dance
he in front of everybody
she alone

hunters

snowy pines
white wolves hunting ‒
in his beard

cover

december snow -
the black cat is hunting
for a place to go

blackbird

cutting winter fuel
the half-remembered blackbird —
his father's voice

veteran

muffled and cloaked
the soldier leans on his cane
to hear the debate
rested he leaves on the wind
a plague on both their houses

discovery

bathed in sweat
the boy learns a secret
known to all

butterfly bridge

between black bricks
rooted in mortar
a buddleia blooms

letter box

put away my pen —
a masterful seduction
for the letter box

the choice

winter storm —
the old man decides
to lie down

an impertinent boy

sun follows rain
the fresh mud
drying hard
her pretty smile
at his suggestion

on learning to pass

You people scare me,
with your secret silent rules.
But I have a brain.
I will analyze your ways.
I will pass for one of you.

on living up to a memory

morning chill
my late father watches
as I shave

undone

as she sleeps
watching her breath on the cold air
I am undone

she looks away

the twittering flock
silent for a moment
she looks away and smiles

secret desire

busy little bee —
his secret desire
to watch her sleep

on unjustified expectations

this worldly innocent.
flighty and indecisive —
she will be his rock

on a new friend

Six a.m.
and still we two sit
just talking
of how we should not
sit talking all night.