progressives

hah

glasses broke last week

right in the middle of the bar

that connects two halves

these progressives now separate

now isolated monocles

& so I take tape clear

& wrap & connect

fix to flimsy wearability &

order new eyesight online

what

I wonder

will I see different and new

in these new unbroken times

prophet

a bird is on the top twigs

of tallest tree

down the path

swaying in the breaths of wind

effortless balancing act of

impressive proportions

I get my binoculars & see that it’s a

crow

black feathers preening in the sway

it’s no doubt speaking

a prophet of things to come

sun

or cloud

cold

or warmth

love

or hate

soil

or stones

life

or death

but I cannot hear

I only see the topmost sight

& then it slowly takes wing

the message sent

snowy morning post-Easter

April post-Easter

in cold COVID time

snow frosts yard

every    few        hours

like icing on paska  

but no multi-coloured sprinkles

& we wait for spring

love-shedding sun

to lighten dark spirits

dark minds

inside four walls

of pandemic isolation

look out window

past trees            past clouds         past skies

to eternal & touch the risen one for hope

beyond this knowing and unknowing

beyond this unprecedented precedent

beyond this stasis

& it shall descend with sunny sprinkles

COVID Good Friday

Bach sonata slow

solo double stops

like steps to the hill

wooden violin on neck

bow stroking gently

John on stage alone

performs to empty pews

camera a river to lonely homes

we watch in two minute

delayed lag

tears welling up

for we must slowly walk

this lonesome valley

hillward

Trump haiku #18

oh you hateful man

you even spoil our simple

Rook game trump-a-lump

Roger explores town

there is a balm…

in spring

with a boy on a balance bike

in village with puddles and mud

when he pushes so fast and then

glides through feet in the air

to other side

unhindered

daring

free

clear voice up to sky

so keep pushing forward

to the next one

and the next one

and the next one

because it never gets old

there is a balm

compost

full now

with frozen bits

of peel and scrap

after long winter two

black bins at yard’s edge

and when sun’s flickers glance

it thaws and settles slowly slowly

decaying into organic mixed matter

that can be turned into the soil where

we grow flowers and carrots paying heed

to the great curved arrows of life in our world