Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul…
                                                Emily Dickinson

the palette knife gleams –
how to suggest a sunrise?
flecks of crimson
from the Old Master…
robin song

spring is here
and summer will be gone
too soon
this moment’s heartbeat
a chaffinch in the willow

out of a dark mood
a memory of summer
you and I
the patch of blue
on a jay’s wing

perched above the stream
this is my halcyon
for a flash
of electric blue

her slippers wet with snow…
your last song
combed with light
is a feather

still warm
this breast that pulsed with song
and shaped a nest…
my fingers close the fan
of an outstretched wing

trailing the flock
the cry of a lone goose
through spring rain
the pattern of your life
always last to spread your wings

water from a mountain stream
you fill my cupped hands…
who will be there to hold me
and give me back to the stars?

LYNX XXVI :2 June 2011



“We turned at a dozen paces, for love is a duel,
  and looked at each other for the last time.”
Jack Kerouac, On the Road

camping out with you
under a woodsmoke moon
where stars
are the weight of dewfall
on the canvas of the night

rising at dawn
feather brushstrokes of fern
and pine tree hills…
the stone still warm
where she was sitting

from heather in-breaths
to exhalations of mist
we drift with larks
through the endless dreams
of mountains

grape-coloured sky
we tread the remains
of the day…
come, drink a glass of summer
from my lips

a steady pace
until we turn
to face the fire
between life and time
love is a duel

that lost bliss
that once bloomed in water
tell me
it will be found
in a winding sheet of dreams

who remembers
they who are long gone?..
at moonrise, the lake
is a salver of stillness
shimmering with moths’ wings

LYNX XXVI :2 June 2011



into the pale blue yonder…

in the back of my mind

a shovel and some rope

and a bag of lime


the last of the past

the first of the future

my fingers

in the now

of the mountain stream


summer breeze

I caught you before the rush


on the garden seat

listening to a robin



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