Compass turns out to play
with Circle. They spin
a wheel until it enfolds
a galaxy, making a breeze
twirl through the zodiac.
They encircle Wind
and all three become fast
friend. Watch and see them
turn, swirl, and roll until
they entwine the globe.
Finally they envelop a panoramic
ring that slips them back home.

eyes in the dusk
wink-in wink-out
in a deep Degas blue
of dancing fairy lights

wink-in wink-out
a cylinder in flight
of fairy lights
in an old mason jar

a cylinder in flight
punch holes in the lid
of an old mason jar
and sink teeth in the night

magic holes in the lid
scatter children and fireflies
sinks teeth in the night
all over the lawn

scatter children and fireflies
who cherish lingering light
all over the lawn find
wisps of night air

children cherish last light
extending the day
and wispy night winds
of free luminescence

the day extends
with a mild sweep of a hand
that captures luminescence
in our backyard and pasture

wild sweep of hands
but what can I write
about our backyard and pasture
to set these lights free

what can I write about fireflies
a clink in the light
that sets their world free
but what makes them special
a clink in the light
say, goodbye to child's play
finally, set the world free
say goodbye...child's play

1. Storybook time for the very young.

2. Computer classes for the not so young.

3. Paintings and photographs displayed by local artists.

4. Sunday recitals by young musicians.

5. Classes ranging from writing to geneology sponsored by the Friends of the library.

6. For the lonely, a place to watch people.

7. Snow gathers on pine trees and covers pinecones preparing for spring seedlings.

8. Events occur like a mother duck swimming with her three ducklings.

9. A smorgasbord of cultures coming together with their families.

10. Summer flowers terraced in red, white, and blue.

11. Impatiens under the meeting room window.

12. A wind and dance routine across the road put on by wild grasses.

13. Squirrels, wild geese, ducks and chipmunks deign to share the lovely grounds.

14. Brick walk of remembrances.

15. A children’s garden.

16. Lady who gathered votes to put doves on the election ballot. Doves safe from hunters. Could this be dubbed the “dove platform?”

17. A place where you can learn about dolphins.

18. A safe place for young people to meet without peer pressure to drink or smoke.

19. Where you can find librarians with ideas.

20. And Steven’s deer went “clattering” down the road during a rainstorm.

21. Personally grateful for writing classes, book sales, and making friends.

You shadow me on your trails
but I remain hidden.

Once you wouldn’t let
me leave.
I kept driving on long
narrow roads.

Near twilight red white lights
of a fire truck flash on the far
side of your lake.

Who did you let fall through the ice?
Did you reveal yourself before the last breath?

I want to say all trails
lead to you and your grove
but I can’t. Yours is a narrow

way of ice and snow
with small sideways steps.

Where do they lead?
Will I still walk this way

come spring?

You coat the crab apple tree
in the parking island with fog
from your mist.

Encased in snow the picnic
tables invade your dreamtime.

There is no room for doubt.
Spring comes as the tree spins
acorn tops across the snow.

And a little color goes a long way
as the male cardinal poses in rich

green pines. Two men with a sled
blanketed with cold continue ice
fishing.

How did you make that pattern of swirls in the snow?
A few of your crystals catch at my throat.

Three deer halt and look over their shoulders,
two travel on but one stands there as if to ask
why we stopped in the middle of the road?

In your clear air my soul breathes open,
makes it hard to go home. I write
so that when I grow old I will remember

who I am and who you are. Remember paths
as I illustrate your words.
Flocks of turkeys last summer dwindle

down to two floundering through snow
by the roadside. And remember the day the ice
fog all but obscures your world.

What do you mean to me? Here I find
God and my soul. A sunset begins
rose-gold over your lake of blue

under ice and snow. Weeds
crystallize and seed beauty
in an otherwise barren world.

Ice bound my sprit rises and opens
up my life to your world as the trail turns
and you approach the lake:

This is my world and yours. Cherish it, love it,
walk it, make it our map of the world.

Last Halloween I went to a party as a cabbage.
A farmer was there and kept trying to pull

off my leaves. I was careful to heighten
my haunting but barely qualified for the best

costume. After a careen over the dance floor
with a carrot I fell into the fountain

of remorse without a ripple only to be
rescued by the farmer still intend on a salad.

Quickening my fortitude I was careful
not to be rigid, but quaint with my last leaf.

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