Saturday, April 18, 2020


Morning on Bronze Pond

There they go, wild geese of peace —
making form of time
while wood ducks bob for breakfast feasts
there they go, wild geese of peace.
But the flicker’s staccato drumming will not cease
until I wake to the day’s rhythm and rhyme.
There they go, wild geese of peace —
making form of time.

What determines a morning end?
When hummingbirds beat frenzy into the day,
or when cattails burst and willows bend?
What determines a morning end?
When wood ducks, through reeds, weave and wend,
or the heron, on one leg, begins to sway?
What determines a morning end?
When hummingbirds beat frenzy into the day.







In 2017 I rented an apartment for a few months at the Caswell Gardens in Troutdale. Bronze Pond was surrounded by bronze sculptures. It was the best apartment ever. I wrote every morning out by the pond.



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