Water Song
Water, the color of night,
so very still
not even a wave
breaks the glass surface.
Fear is sometimes
like this, submerged
so far it is hidden
from the conscious self,
safely buried
and unable to rise
to the top again.
Dark thoughts swim
against the current
of common sense, but
they meet no resistance
that far down.
The First Coyote
Shadowed by trees, it was alert,
Watching those on the porch.
Tall, thin, a knife sharp gaze,
This coyote knew its way around.
The startled man cradled the cat
And called the nervous dogs back
Inside the house, far away from
This lurker in the evening woods.
Was it waiting for a squirrel or
Rabbit? You couldn’t tell this far
Away, yet clearly it was patient
And after tonight’s dinner.
How else could it survive
If not for foraging here and
There, waiting for a quick
Capture, meat for a day or two.
This was the first coyote seen
In the neighborhood, and now
I open the window late at night
To listen to it sing to the moon.
Back to Edinburgh
We walk through the hidden streets of this city,
The second day of spring and the wind gusts hard.
People stop and wince, cupping their ears for warmth.
The news said blustery winds up to 25 mph,
And it feels as if we might tumble down the street.
Looking for simple woolen hats to pull down
Over our frigid heads, we stop at a Royal Mile shop.
I select gray, and you opt for black. I am grateful
That your good felt hat is safe back at the hotel.
The street is so rich in history that it feels as if
It could reach out and grab us by the arms,
Pulling us down a small wynd or narrow close
That has a story to share,
And in the late afternoon gloaming,
We might be wind swept and turned around
Into some other time.
It could happen you know.
A Poet in Time 