Sandhill Cranes

Swaying red poppies,
The sandhill cranes make their way 
Pacing so slowly;
Such days are gifts to watch traipse,
Though always away from me.

Myrtle and Magnolia

The master grafted
A myrtle branch to a bough
Of magnolia;
At times more white blooms than black,
But the forms their mixture makes!

Deeper, narrower

Deeper, narrower,
Remote as Weeki Wachee's
Caves are my love's straits.
Inaccessible, and yet
The dream is to descend there.

Creatures of mischief

Creatures of mischief
Sit at the great game's table
While blazing spirits
Rage beneath the surface. Joy:
The geyser, Fate's to control.

New Neighbors

While driving to Walgreens for you,
A pair of sandhill cranes
Stroll along the sidewalk,
Their foreheads blazing cherries.

They carry their tender frames,
So tall and russet brown,
Lightly as soft breezes
Going nowhere briskly.

We've seen a good few
Lately, are they here
Advising safety; it is 
Hurricane season soon.

Now they're rounding our
Corner as I return.
I hurry you outside
To meet our new neighbors.

I snap some blurry pictures
Of their graceful exit;
The leaves into the curtain
And sidewalks they make their runway.

Unpicked

Every grain of sand is consuming.
Winter after winter culls
Our offerings, and our reserves,
Overripened, go unpicked.

We only rehearse our songs to Silence,
But if we were heard, and approval
Laid on us, would we know what to do?

If it is a genius that alights
On me, how do I form a technique
From it; and where beyond the sand
Can one find a base to build?

The words and directions of others can't 
Reveal memories' inner world;
But to be there with them and to share
In the common dream, like beholding a peacock,

The world beyond yet partaken in,
If you could just accept and exalt it.
Even the unpicked fruit gets eaten.