for everything which is yes

A congregation
of geese cry out from the field
below my window.

Crickets sit on the
sidewalk–beached, brown sunbathers.
They move for shadows.

De-lacing the shoes,
my heart lost some stitches too;
’twas time they came out.

The moon hung like a
pushpin, holding all else to
the cosmic cork board.

Hello, butterfly.
What? Ha. No. Just saying hi.
Okay. See ya, then.

PRIVATE PROPERTY
Beyond: an unkempt arbor.
Who owns this wild nook?

Today is a day
for one-uppers…or those who
refuse to fit in.