Saturday, July 19, 2014

peasley poor farm

where we pick berries,
the man said he went out
at last light,  a large bush
was nearly ready to pick.

the next morning he went out
the bush was empty;
three deer were asleep
in the grass under it.

Friday, July 18, 2014


woke up slow
got clean, ready for the day.
from the window
caught the first glint of sun

cracking over the horizon.
suddenly i froze;
an idea was coming to mind.
coffee . . .  thought of that too.

i'd make some and sip,
think a bit what to do.
going to make this day