she wants to be a forager,

a gatherer of nature’s treasures

its wildflowers & weeds,

its lithe & tenders branches,

its seed pods & roadside grasses

secateurs in hand

and a small bucket of water,

trekking poles and rubber boots

she’ll traverse gravel roads,

descend Iowa’s ditches

all in search of beauty,

wherever it is to be found

~ for Shelly & Diane

three poet friends gather

beneath the creaky boughs

of a sturdy old oak

spring breezes have subsided,

just a bit, as a waxing moon

takes center stage

on a crisp April horizon

spirits in hand, each takes her turn

reading lyricisms honed

for just this occasion

the work itself is not important,

it’s the camaraderie

and shared love of poetry

that draws, and keeps

these artisans together

sunroom lives up to its name

illumination from the east

brightens our morning world

cheers us in our daily routines

I detect

a lack of enthusiasm

when I’m the one

who calls

but flip the script

and of a sudden,

we’re now the very

best of friends

droplets of winter rain

gentle last autumn’s leaves,

tickling hidden flora —

emergent stamen, stems & pistils

all urged skyward, seekers

of light’s greening warmth,

nurturing sunshine’s

photosynthetic magic

root tendrils encircle

fistfuls of potting soil

new home, renewed life:

viable options

battered suet feeder,

wearied and depleted

fierce, late-winter storm —

my good intentions,

brought to heel

inaccessible breach

blue ocean gash

the deep, the deep

you sniff the ground,

the spring-greening grass

you lead the two of us

to where it is you wish to go

willingly, I follow —

so enamored, am I,

I follow

I hold your leash

in my hand

but you are the one

who leads us