Just outside Clermont, Florida

The turkey buzzard
circles over the empty
baseball diamond.

6:30 a.m.

Three mornings in a row

The sun climbs, slow and orange

Over the lazy ridge.

19 July

Early morning yoga with the moon
over the left shoulder
waning gibbous

Layers

Earth
Sand
Topsoil
Brick
Mat
Blanket
Me
Air
Strut
Screen
More Air
Sky
Cloud
More sky.

11 July

Today I bathed in the green of the woods
Thank you woods
Long may we keep each other clean

10 July

There is something terrible
about that suitcase
half closed, half open
on the bare wood floor

9 July

In the woods a crow
snaps hold of a Styrofoam bowl
and does not let go

Surprised by grief today

Surprised by grief today,

by the loss that comes from change.

Even quiet fails to offer comfort.

Texting from Kansas

If you stand on the porch

and lean on the rail

and get lucky,

there's one bar's worth of signal

Going to work

Light grey glen plaid
Walking fast
Brown briefcase at your side
Like man's best friend
You walk right past
The lavender

Small Stone 4 July

Walked home with the sun on my back

Ah

That is all for today

Drawing class*

These are only marks, made underhand
Erase & adjust & erase again
Until the black dog barks



* I just wanted to note that I found this small stone in an article I was reading this morning in the 27 June 2011 New Yorker, "Life Studies," by Adam Gopnik

Mr Pigeon

He is there before

the crumbs can hit

the ground.