The Orchestra

Choruses of insects wail
at the cross-
roads of the forest,
where many paths converge. Insistent
choirs perform their orchestrations,
sounding alarms, of-
ten commandments to visitors
trying to decide the right path
to follow. The deafening noise
causes many to avoid the cross-
roads, turning back
to quiet, familiar trails.

Fly Fishing

Trickery is stirring,
drifting in the brook,
a shiny ordained barb
luring the fish
with a colorful story—
promising fulfillment
while twisting and dancing
like magic
in the shallows.

Indiana Deer

Looking for trouble is serious
business for white tail deer
in the frosted Indiana
fields. They amble deftly
in a black and white world
dotted by orange hunters
only barely aware
their swelling bellies tighten,
waiting for the spring.

Surfaces

 

Dragonfly wings—mother of pearl
etched with charcoal and pine,
finely transparent above

the buoyant bluegills, suspended
below flowering lily pads
with azure and emerald
scales, each a tiny gem,
glimmering
in the dark
nibbling
cold.

Best Friends

Dogs don’t live to be twelve on the savanna.

Nobody says it, that there is cruelty
in the unnatural way dogs are kept
beyond their expiration dates—living to twelve
in thousands of living rooms,
half-lives, barking at remembered things,
eating budget kibble from pie pans
while their humans hope
they live at least
another year.