Poetry

Mother of the daybreak & fast-breaking tides / Mother of the small cup & fruit of the peach tree / Mother of twigs & blossoms / fondled in the mouths of fished streams / memory of gold / & supper at noon / Mother of orange sunrise hat / & blue scarf

A Sonnet to Jesse and Liz As twilight wends its way to gentle night, And Love seeks roots…

She goes on four wheels, the hunter Guillinna
across desert toward chaparral, fluid
motion through pelting rain, dirt brown reverie
turned. No stranger, she, to solitary
mass. No wonder why her autonomous flight.

For Erika She walks along the creek as morning dawns, The woods not fully striped in orange and…