Bruno

For Sawyer, Jon, and Bruno.

He knows his mind
That dog
All it takes
Is an open car door
He knows
It's his car
His driver
His home
He knows

Third grade

I remember the first poem I ever wrote.

I wish I was a hummingbird
I'd go to places you never heard
I'd buzz around
From flower
To flower
Every day
Every hour.

I wrote it in large pencil in big capital letters.

On the fly

Poetry flies through my head
At night
I come downstairs
It is gone.
Write it down
They say
Still
It makes no sense
In the morning.
Even from a scrap
Of paper.
Different poets
Take nature walks
With pencil
And paper.
They compose
On the fly.

Opening churches

Opening churches
Just tells us when
It will be safe
Is it ever safe?
We like
To think so.
Our God
Is not a safe God
Remember
Whenever we gather
It involves
Risk
We forget
So often.
Perhaps
Now
We are meant
To remember.

They arrive

The monarchs.
The backyard is filled
With monarchs.
It took them so long
To discover
The milkweed.
Now they communicate
By monarch antennae
To antennae.

Keyboard

Does the keyboard
Make sense?
No
It does not.
How did the vowels
Lose track
Of each other?
Why is U so far
From Q?
And F and G
In the middle
When they are so rarely
Used.
Sense
Why am I looking
For sense?

Two days ago

Two days ago I learned
That the rib cage
Extends
Behind us
as well
As in front
Yes
Of course it does.
Sometimes I learn things
The hard way.