
a reclusive crow
doesn’t want to be any
part of a murder
–photo by me

a reclusive crow
doesn’t want to be any
part of a murder
–photo by me

If this is all
A simulation
Just a game
An animation
Then perhaps
At our demise
GAME OVER
Blinks inside
Our eyes
And only then
We realize
Our progeny
Are extra lives

Milli and I
Are subjects when
We’re first
In line, you see,
But then again
We’re objects when
The ending’s
Her and me.
–Photo by my son, Aaron

loud opinions
quell the quiet discomfort
of uncertainties

The low December sun backlights
A grove of trees.
–Photo by me

As I lay on the beach
Under tangerine skies,
Amid scattered
And twisted debris,
Thirteen dark birds
Were dispatched
From the sun,
And fast they came
‘Cross the dark sea.
They came to escort
A lost soul to the west;
Some soul that was
Newly set free,
And their black
Beady eyes
Looked around
For their prize–
Oh, why were they
Looking at me?
–Photo by me

–photo by me

winter clouds come down
for a visit, but they get
hung up in the trees
it’s nice to have visitors–
till they hang around too long
–photo by me

the falling snow
in the headlights
had me hypnotized
as i navigated our
family shuttlecraft
thru the meteors
from the back seat
of our chevrolet
it made me sleepy
so i crawled back
under my blanket
leaving my father
at the helm again
my parents chatting
and the low drone
of the wheels soon
had me drifting off
suddenly my mom
screamed and i sat
bolt up-right just in
time to see a giant
deer leap right over
the hull of our craft
i was sure of it
to this day i don’t
know what i saw
it sure seemed real
but i haven’t seen
any giant deer since

Like my father always said in the winter, “Keep moving and you won’t freeze!”
–photo by me