I Regain Autumn

Sun speaks after the first
Fall rain leaves streaks
Under a dusty tree and
I regain autumn --it
Says this to me.

Silver Clock

I clean a silver clock
Tarnished with worry,
Things to see to, blunders,
Hurried duties, and find
That distinctive, cool
Brightness under,
Reset its hands.
It happens easily,
Usually at three:
One sees silver hair,
Someone seated
A certain way in a
Chair, alert, ready,
Honest, behind a
Silver tea tray and
One falls in love.

Rahima

Unexpected always,
Like wild strawberries
Or lupine in dunes
Appear and hold earth together,
You walk with an open book
Beyond the brim of my hat.
I look.
"It's only a mystery," you say.
Yes, it is certainly that:
You on the path to
Rahima, bright day;
Me, trimming escallonia;
Detectives on separate ways
In an old universe
That still glistens.
You speak.
I listen.
"This, I am more.
Something else that is more."
Hair full of fairylamps,
Downward flutter of fingertips,
A gesture stirring stellar dust,
And I believe you,
I must.

What Bucket List?

Why I am laughing:
My hearing's gone,
My nerves are shot,
My bucket is empty
And I hate these sandals.
There are worse definitions
Of happiness.

Perhaps Because I Have Done This Before

Each moment contains
Some quality of the next
In continuum --in text,
An enjambment, as rain

Stores starlight

In opalescent fog.

Morning, birds
Mutter in hedges,
Silence is
Broken by a barking dog
And this span loses edges
To rising mist.
New worlds are
Made of this: calm uncertainty
That will grow
Wings, feathers, fur;
From this weather
Occur, live, be,
And roam the future
Of memory.

Lake Berryessa

Berryessa was late to work this morning
As we drove east from San Francisco.
She crossed Interstate 80 in an embarrassed
Thirteen-mile-long glob of water and wildlife.
Last night, Outside Lands Music and Arts Festival put
A strain on her hydroelectrics and lights flickered.
Her alarm clock failed, and she woke up real late.
She was trying to get back to Napa and 
Lay herself against the Monticello Dam
So the music could go on, so Tom Petty could
Be a Heartbreaker yet again and close the show.
It's only nine o'clock now, so I don't know
If she made it, but we waded through --we
Got home --and found out the car likes fish.
 

Cosmohydraulics

Some old idea echoes
Amid stars, rides
Nightfall down and 
Rapids into sea.
An illusive light
Of things to be (f)rollicks
In our destiny.