We’ve been pummeled
with more snow this week
than the last two years combined
but it has already mostly gone
and as the temperatures
creep ever higher
we wonder what is about to happen
it’s the last game of the season
next week and then it will be the time
of year when we need to decode
the arcane logic necessary
to change out the water filters
it’s hard to pay attention to such tasks
when the rising level of the river
is approaching the flood zone
the universe is leaving warnings for us
scattering them around town like
the little painted rocks we used to find
there’s a boat waiting for us
below the rapids
we’re going to head out to sea
then navigate the coastal waters
we will ease through lightning storms
see goats standing on headlands
that watch us balefully as we pass
there will be music
and dancing once we arrive
a march with elements
of civil disobedience
we will burn oil lamps after it gets dark
float them down the river
with messages that we send to the future.
New Moon with Flora and Fauna
The moon is a sickle cell
about to toss its last strings of radiance
into a somber vacuum the cherry
tree leaning into its neighbor weeping
blood tears at midnight we retreat
to the living room where photographs
of friends and family clump
on random surfaces in one I wear
a denim jacket at an art show
small daughter laughing
into the camera the painting
I sold patterned with lions
embedded in a colorful watery grid
outside the wind is gathering itself
and the magnolia quietly taps
on the bedroom window something
is asking permission while there is still
enough light to see before the moon
disappears completely into the haze
that the river casts across our lives
on a night this dark you can’t really
see the corpses of the ash trees
or the mice-killing cats that slink
silently past the snuffling raccoons.
