Remember Our Garden

We made a raised one,
Carefully set chicken wire
Below to keep out
Burrowing borrowers,
Enclosed the upside
With the same stuff.
The couple uphill were
Entertained all summer
Watching woodchucks
Munch the squash,
How they so ingeniously
Found ways around
Our brave barriers.
Then the funny
Little milk carton collars
We placed around
The baby cucumber plants
To keep out cutworms.
Marigolds and saucers
Of beer for the slugs.
It was no use, we share
Their space and so
They shared our bounty.

For Lena

A lady with attitude
And a voice like
Warm smooth chocolate
Caressed each note
Loved the words
Laughed at life
Not always pleasant
Ever worthwhile
Empowered the womanhood
Of so very many who
Walked behind her
Gladly grateful.

Avatar

I did not think that you could ever die

Or I could ever live without you

I see the hawk above me now

Every where I go and know

That you did not really die

And I am really not alone.
　
　

St. Petersburg Zoo

The monkey cackles from the tree tops,
at the crowd waiting below, like in a zoo,
but what a zoo this is without the walls
and free to roam the suburbs of St. Pete,
as he’s done happily for months.
Every now and then, just for him, a show.
Below, Moms and Dads and kids
and closer by the guys and gals with bright
yellow signs on dark blue jackets,
with guns of sleepy shots meant for the
elusive Rhesus in the trees .
(They are the funniest of all,
so full of their own importance).
Every monkey should have
the pleasure of such a zoo.

No Guarantee

No Guarantee

I watched carefully,
Every move he made,
This oafish fiend
Manning the register,
Saw him carelessly toss
A meticulously selected
Bartlett pear in the bag,
Just as he picked up
The can of tomato sauce.
Rabbit quick, I rescued
My treasure, gently placing
It atop the spinach
In the other bag.
How did it happen
That my perfect pear,
Lovely freckled yellow,
Light blush on the hips,
Come home with a cruel
Gash across it’s belly?

A Prayer for Bettina Joseph

Five years old looks eighty in Haiti
A scratch becomes a death sentence.
A budget crunch in the land
Of plenty of milk and honey.
No money for nonessentials
As flights to hospitals,
Only for orphans already paid for.
Have mercy on the souls of those
Not saved by televised concerts,
Texted dollars and PTA cookie drives.

Early Morning Haiku

My fat turtle moon

Canopy of dancing light

Greet the soft blue dawn.