The Beginner


the owl in the cemetery
begins hooting at dusk
before the dark settles
I walk there then

to begin the end of the day
with its constant attempts
at certainty and security
its rush to be done

I tend to how
trees winter
how they humble me
to bud

to begin

The Long Lonely


it’s late
I’m debating whether or not
to sit  with the title of this new poem
in hope something more than a title
will come I wait
knowing my tiredness will win
if I  rest
the poem will visit another
hoping to grow
into something awake
with attention and
live to the touch

good night