church school barn home

 

did those cracked and missing panes

silvered sometimes with frost

sometimes with darkness

 

reflect a congregation

leaning left then right

hands high in prayer

 

or a child leaning over a primer

sounding out words

the stove just heating

 

or a calf leaning

on a crooked gate

licking tongue coated with grain

 

or an embracing family sagging

from the grief of leaving

this right leaning place

 

church school barn home

 

 

below drifting snow

the earth waits for new life

contemplating 

another cycle of seasons

that may be allotted

in late summer
i sweep the pavilion
a frog croaks
next to the still water
memories dissipate

i am the blue sky
that clouds come to cover
i watch from above
free from their shadow or rain
they soon drift away

my neighbor informs me that
a bullet striking a rock
always goes straight up

and so the ricochets I heard
bouncing off my silo
couldn’t possibly
be from his gun

I do not argue
with armed men

cherry blossoms
taken by a late frost
two bluebirds
flutter down from the branches
and search the grass for bugs