Wing Ku

flight is problematic –
my feathers
don't have wings

~

over Sylvia Lake
a migrating goose
waves goodbye

~

a gray wing
sheds wet feathers –
smells like snow

~

in my old rocker
I wonder how I got here –
a black wing wraps around

Salad Bowl

Shorty George inherits a wooden bowl,
his double-great grandmother painted
an ancient Norwegian design inside and out.

Shorty gets a grinder, takes it down
to raw wood inside and out,
and rubs in mineral oil.

Now, he says,
I have a proper salad bowl,
inside and out.

Susan

A jade moon lights the kitchen,
Susan sips tea and studies space
and time through the window,
the old plum tree reveals a path

to the next dimension. Susan drifts
through the back gate, follows the fence
line to the abandoned irrigation ditch.
The ditch follows the slope to the wooden bridge

on Jackson Road, Susan ducks under the bridge
and feels her way over the gravel
to the other side. Ahead in the darkness
is a galaxy of lights, the chill air thins,

Susan feels light on her feet and begins to float
ahead, she reaches out, her hand is cold,
frost is in her fingers, she digs in the gravel
and pulls herself back, scurries back

under the bridge to the safety of the ditch.
Susan warms her fingers, stumbles back
down the irrigation ditch, through the back gate,
falls into the kitchen cat.

Susan sits on the floor, sips tea,
and avoids the jade moon.

Wet Snow

Mitsuyoshi Tosa’s
Bamboos Under Snow,
leafy stems hunched

under wet, sticky pillows.
My garden
has only evergreens.

Cedar Fence Post

Barbed wire hangs
on the common sense
of a cedar fence post

and a ranch hand
with fencing pliers
in his pocket.