423CAA96-5116-4D34-BF78-B46063F333C8Press 1 for Autumn

You work hard,
you deserve crisp air
and a pile of colored leaves.

Why wait? Order your season today
The more you buy, the more you save.

Press 2 to fast forward to spring
if the orange is too bright
and evenings too dark and chill.

Do you long for lilies?

Why be satisfied with the pace
of the earth?

Why be satisfied with October nights
when you are feeling like first of May?

Spring can be yours today.
Don’t wait, don’t delay!

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Miss that cozy-by-the-fire feel
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Press 4 to have winter
delivered to your door.

With Insta-Season,
you don’t have to be chained
to the seasons.

Have the sun delivered to your door/inbox/sensory input system
in no time. (Check your spam folder if you haven’t received it)

First-time callers receive
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Feel the breeze on your skin
when and how you want it

You’re in control!
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Free shipping and handling on orders
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Thank you for your order–
your product will arrive in three minutes.

**Free gift if you order now, for a limited time only:
Your own personalized moon
injection-molded with colored plastic
and engraved with your very own initials.
Keep your moon inside with you
so you never have to go outside.


As You Now Close Your Eyes

4742FE70-9A05-4E6D-A6CD-2B59E6537445Persephone, are you not the author of your own notes?

Are you not indeed your own mother living inside your seasoned gown?

The underworld ties your hands down in the unlit palaces
but what of your lungs and legs
and the crown upon your head?

Lather the golden leaves on your dusky skin.

Pour weeds from your eyes
and cry flowers.

Laugh dark and riotously to rival the rain.

I believe in you—it’s going to be ok.

But you don’t need me to lend belief—-the Earth will soon pour you out.

Whose permission do you need but your own?
Do you not trust your own power?

You may forget for a bit, but Spring will spill out of you as easily as you now close your eyes.

All the old songs will be resurrected,
and the new will rise like a fresh breeze.

Awake to Wings – Eight Spring Haiku

lake2At morning and dusk
scooping up their breakfast bugs—
these madcap martins

At the water’s edge
a family of seven ducks—
bedtime is at nine

Playing hide and seek
the kids roam from shore to shore
yelling for their dog

Silhouetted lake
has spring swallows dancing to
ukulele songs

Blue wings, white bellies—
thrill-seeker aerialists
enjoy the sunset

June on the water
swallows and shadows swaying
in the evening breeze

Wood rat scurries in
picking up after picnics
at the city lake

Schedule for the month:
mallards morning exercise
I awake to wings

Last Glimpse of May

sandSand flies are silent but persistent
wanting something on the inside
of my skull

Fortunately, I have legs
that give me a slight height advantage
and a spine that pivots my head
towards Venus in the heart of Gemini
already gazing searchingly at me
inches above Sunday’s goodbye.

The sand is no less a bed
for not having cost a month’s salary
at that store people love to talk about
and the willows no less a backyard
for not owning it

big hard rocks are great
for building houses
but tiny, soft rocks are better
for sleeping on

and has the built in feature
of containing ancient crystals
the color of nautical dusk
and blue glass
and I swear a little bit o’ Mars.

Venus is even hotter
than fire season in the central valley

but that doesn’t prevent crickets
and plovers from swapping bedtime stories
and crying onomatopoeically
for their version of what happened

and while the river spills
into and out of the arms of Venus

a satellite and a jackrabbit slide by—
last glimpse of May.

In Between Seasons

https _upload.wikimedia.org_wikipedia_commons_8_85_Prothonotary_Warbler_-_Protonaria_citrea_Leesylvania_State_Park_VirginiaBy definition I’ve never had one
like this

it begins mysteriously
in medias res
in the middle of the day
the conversation
the song, the garden

growing half-way up the hill
in between seasons
before you have a chance to decide
what clothes to wear

behind it lurks the terrible
I mean outrageous
I mean beautiful question

with no answer
other than its own time-line built in

like a knock in the middle of the night
at half-time of the big game
when your soul comes on-line
and your bodies fall like gravity
into each other

Still, by definition I’ve never had one like this
by definition I never had one
by definition I never will

because it wasn’t in the dictionary
they provided me with
that I threw out long ago

and you can’t own what’s only loaned
on borrowed time
and touch

which is everything

but only to live inside it
for a moment

like a ripe currant
waiting to be eaten
by the yellow warbler
carried by an invisible current
to the eastern shore

the warbler
whose song is a musical strophe
rendered “Sweet sweet sweet,
I’m so sweet”

makes living in the mystery
in the middle of it all
the only place you want to be

The Bee Leaves His Tavern – Seven Spring Haikus

IMG_0646Bee leaves his tavern
flying cross-eyed without care
full of daisy beer

An April morning
A fern dangles from fawn’s mouth—
Relaxed etiquette

Under the alder
Orion’s belt shines brightly
through the new spring leaves

I go and you go
to distant growing meadows—
two springs arriving

A springtime buffet
as for the fennel down there—
I ate most of it

First fruits and spring breeze
her thigh under fushia dress—
mighty writhing snake

Even in my arms
hearing the moon moan above
you long for my hands