ninja tree frog

one tiny tree frog

stealthily basks on the ledge

storing autumn sun

one last summer day

deck hammock swaying
one last summer day reading
before autumn comes

the night after

the night after the bloody eclipse,

the wounded moon recovers, swollen

large and obscured by scar tissue clouds

already this tired

deer die on roadsides
last day of summer weather
already this tired

late to the blood moon

by the time I get there, the eclipse 

is on the wane, and the moon looks

small and hard and far away, like 

an angry marble reflecting all the

sunrises and sunsets the Earth is

starting and ending off to the sides

where I cannot see but still believe

the last dragonfly (gathering strength)

garnet dragonfly
rests on summer sun-warmed toe
before autumn comes

riding in circles

He is riding his bike in wide circles, passing between my garage and my car in the sort of test of skill small children set to themselves while I try not to fall off the ladder in my garage as I organize and restack moving boxes.  He passes through again and again, and I lose my balance a little each time I see him out of the corner of my eye, but I never actually fall, and when I am finally finished, on the hood of my car (precisely centered) is a sprig from the crabapple tree I refer to as the cherry tree, and it makes all the half bugs I find in my hair for the rest of the night matter less.

now it is autumn

purple twilights fall

more frequently now, like leaves,

now it is autumn

Life and fortune

Sometimes life

is--like my most 

recent fortune cookie 

("People try thing, because they 

just don't want it enough")--

pretty much incomprehensible

to the folks on the ground.  Hang 

in there, anyway, and maybe try 

another fortune cookie?

she is dancing

We are in the orthopedic shoe store, and she is maybe 3.  She is dancing around me, spinning and giggling and trying to be sneaky and noticed at the same time in that inept and charming way 3-year-olds can, and I make eye contact and smile a small sun smile at her as she twirls by in her unsteady orbit, and she smiles hugely at our shared secret and keeps turning, and eventually her mother or grandmother notices and blessedly laughs instead of being needlessly angry, and the grace is sweet and thick among the smell of leather and aging.

the first mystic

He said, "He

was the first

mystic I ever

met," and some

day I want to

write a poem

about that, too.

When I am not sleeping (much at all)

It's like every bit 

of progress and forward 

momentum disappears into 

the brain fog, and I am 

left with only 

the weariness and 

the grimly-held 

hope that the switch 

will flip again 

soon, so I can 

get the normal 

inadequate amount 

of sleep and 

recapture my 

scattered wits 

and will and 

write on.

the difference between

I have been thinking about 

the difference between

thinking you are the puzzle

and 

thinking you are a piece, 

thinking you are the tapestry

and 

thinking you are a thread, 

thinking you are the body

and 

thinking you are a member of it.

revenge of the dragonflies

I longed
for more
dragonflies,
but when I
sprawled on
the deck, they
tickled me
to distraction.
We studied
each other.
I wondered why
I love them so
much more than
other insects
with equally ugly
or even more
beautiful faces.
Jewel colors?
Sporty wings?
Pest-hunting
prowess? Inability
to do me any
real harm?

another sleepless night

a moon so bright 

the shadows 

of the tree 

thrown on my 

white curtains 

at night were 

visible to me even 

in my blindness

I blame Stonehenge

Between the cryptic
tonsils and the tonsilloliths
(don't look up pictures),
I feel justified in blaming
Stonehenge for all my
throat illnesses.  And
lack of sleep, too?

watching dragonflies

the cold comes

suddenly and I

have not spent

nearly enough

time watching

dragonflies from

deck hammocks to

last me through 

the long winter

nostalgia or eyeball floaters

was the sky

a clearer blue

when I was 

young, or could 

it just be that 

there are 

more floaters

in my eyes now

that I am older

?

nightmare dogs of sleeplessness

At night

the light

from 

unevenly

spaced poles

can make 

even Tiny

Adorable

Dog into a

terrifying

creature of

nightmare

moving too

low to the 

ground with 

far too 

many 

legs and

its usual

silence so

endearing

in daylight

leaving me

jolted

breathless

with fear

clutching

my mail

and frayed

self-possession.

TAI - > TAD

What is it about just knowing

that Tiny Adorable Illegal Dog

is not, in fact, actually illegal,

that makes me want to cuddle

and pet it even more despite 

the fact that legality 

has nothing to do

with allergies

?