Washtub Concert

The winter rain
Falls quiet
On a day
That is too warm
For snow.
In the place
Winter white
There is mud
Brown and dull
Dead leaves
Sodden mud
Everywhere
Denigrates
The sterile beauty
Of winter.

Yet under
My porch
Drops of water
Fall through
Cracks
Planks
And play
A merry
Percussion
On metal
Washtubs
Laid upside down.
Plink dink
Plink plunk.

Gossamer Laser

A single strand
Of spider web
Pulled tight
Between two trees
Holding them in place.
Like a gossamer laser
It shines
Glistens
As it twirls
And is hit
By glancing
Sun rays.

Bittersweet Dreams

My recent dreams
Are not of
A Christmas
White with snow.
Nor are they filled
With sugarplums
Dancin' in my head.
I do not drift
In wonderlands
Filled with costly things
As I sleep
As I dream.
My dreams instead
Take me back
To an easier time
Simpler place.
An old log house
Shotgun kitchen
Mice runnin' in the walls.
The sound of Aunts
Through walls and doors
Movin', cookin', talkin' low
The smell of coffee
Boiled strong an' black
Biscuits light as air
Hand cut bacon
Piles of eggs
Preserves sweet an' thick.
These dreams take me back
An' as I sleep
Tears fall on my face.
For even as I sleep
I know
This is a place,
A time
A memory
Where I can no longer go.

Tower Dreams

I sit at my desk
High in an office tower
Middle of a city
Separated from the world
Breathing recycled air
And dreaming of home.
Dreaming of mountains
Old as the world
Worn down by time
Hollers deep and hidden
Bypassed by roads
That do not take the time
To turn down a crooked path
To find the joys
Waiting at the end
Of a broken path
Or across a ford
In a branch filled
With water
That had traveled
Down ancient hills
To gather and sing
And call to me
Hundreds of miles away
Sing my name
Call my heart
Back home.

False Spring

It is warm
For December.
Too warm
With no snow
Or ice
And little frost.
Trees in the holler
Are budding
Fooled by
A cruel nature
Into thinking
Spring.