Into summer    pockets stuffed and bellies,
thin shoulders shaped in towns.


Old veterans wag and bumble
one a greying linebacker    one tiny
charismatic with Buster Keaton face
and boom in the voice


Clothes jig on a creaking line
We walk to the park
Wind is new silk     Tongued trees drop their spores

Anticipate


In a jade garden fathoms deep
alive and phantomed
propped on shoulders of blue grass we daydream again

        The dog in the building
is waiting out of reach

Truant


for rain in the lush growth to stop.