Tag Archives: select

The Road

The wide sky, the tar road,
the railroad trestle, the frogs at evening.
The world is outside waiting, waiting.

The sunset creeps down its evening vine
like a Gauguin painting.

And look, over there,
the clouds rolling in from the sea,
those great ruby and orange-robed sky monks.

How beautiful the world is
when you wake from sleep!


I saw my grainy days
into single words.

Each day-word came
like a loaf of bread
warm from the oven.

Even the night
I hit a family of deer
on a snow hard mountain road

became a guilty gift,
like a story
in stained glass.

The High Road

Ravens are digging in the snow
high on the mountain this searing afternoon
like a negative painting by Carravagio.

Who sees behind the mirror makes
a road, a path through the wilderness
beyond where the hills are wearing away.