Low dust clouds bristled
  In the sky but I did not see;
A lone grackle whistled
  A warning I did not perceive.

The world would neither stop turning
  Nor quit its mockery.
I sat upon a rock, faltering –
  Because of things that wouldn’t be.

Only distraction can persuade –
  Only sleep can steal
Such sadness that pervades
  And hot tears that swell

But hotter yet came a wind
  That brushed my fingers
As would one consoling
  And dried my tears.

Tell me something more –
   Something about yourself
I’ve never heard before –
   A surprise will help.

Let's pass the afternoon –
   So hot like it is –
For August is afoot
   And I get restless.

If whatever I learn
   Stirs my heart up –
Dances in my brain
   Or makes me blush –

I can mull it over
   And spite terrible August.
Then I’ll consider
   My day accomplished.

I give you a gift of fireflies;
They’re all I have to give –
Captured by many tries –
Given with all my love.

They’re all I have to give
To you. They are white magick –
Given with all my love.
Let them illuminate your path.

To you, they are white magick
In the myst of the forest.
Let them illuminate your path
Because fear is darkness

With a spurn of yellow and a shout –
  A lone Mexican poppy
Aside the mountain path
  Caught my meandering eye.

How diminutive was its stem
  And so few were its petals –
Nevertheless – smart with poison –
  As it stood there – tranquil.

For one who’s loud in color –
  I warned the little poppy –
It’s not good to be popular
  For you can be plucked easily.

City lights, city lights –
Look at all the city lights!
Some are red, some are blue –
Some light up a roof –
Such are our summer nights.

A therapeutic wind blows
As I dare to look below
At the freeway steadily
Moving as an artery
By the bright headlight glow.

From such a great height
In the lateness of the night –
A thrill to my young heart
I feel before we must part.
What wondrous city lights!

Sweat is the other garment
  You wear in the desert
When the only water is in the cactus
  And all but the flies are inert

But a cool layer of sweat
  Is a hiker’s proof of reward
For taking a thin trail
  And in curiosity, moving forward.

Just north of Minneapolis
on Shingle Creek
my Dad and I
would pull on our worn brown leather skates
the endless task of lacing them up
and then skate down the narrow
frozen stream where fresh wounds
bubbled up between the jutting rocks.


I want to go back to those days
I took for granted.
I want to follow my Dad up
that treacherous stream, barely missing
rocks, branches, open water.
I want to remember what it was like
to be in the sixth grade
to have that dark, cold
winding river ahead of me
and not be afraid. 

Don’t tell it to the wind
To be blown away as vapor
Or share it with a gossiper
As fragile as a dandelion.

Don’t speak of it on the mountaintop;
Even the clouds have ears.
For fear that the Devil hears –
Don’t pray for it aloud to God.

Let the wish build up inside
Then straight-faced, release it subtly –
As your actions make it be –
Until its existence can’t be denied.

For the favor of people and greed
I will not bring shame to my namesake.
A believer's crown, they don't esteem;
For the favor of people and greed
They lie and do a hideous deed
But take heart – enjoy what's good and straight
For the favor of people and greed
Will only bring shame to your namesake.

By a gently flowing creek –
  I saw a swallowtail flutter
About my head, as though meek –
  And land softer than a feather.

He was large enough, I swear –
  To sit in all of my hand.
He did not mind that I was there
  Or that I was entranced.

Soon, a second butterfly
  Distracted him by swooping down –
His mate, I surmised.
  How fiercely they swirled around!

Then breaking up, they moored
  To sup water from the red rock
Like two tasters of one accord
  Complimenting the good stock.