1.  I Think I Would
   A solitary bird, 
   with no mate or flock,
   skips at the level of treetops.

​

   I'll never know 
   what lures him here or there,
   but I wonder that he,
   blessed with the ability,
   wouldn't fly much higher.

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2.  Avant-garde
   One – perhaps a gander (though I doubt it) –
   banked and took a different course, alone,
   staking out another way,
   disconnected from the flying “V.”

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   It could be she was searching for her mate –
   her soul mate, lost to predator or gun –
   or perhaps she was aware
   instinctively there would be water there.

​

   The others of the flock become confused;
   the graceful “V” became an awkward “U,”
   a crooked, asymmetric arc,
   a funny, twisted sort of question mark.

​

   The flock banked to the left and followed her,
   caught up, regrouped to their familiar form,
   symbiotically joined.
   And she, of course, was flying at the point.

​

3.  Requiem Aeternam 
   The orbs and tablets, crosses, monoliths,
   some in place a hundred years or more
   and rendered unintelligible by 
   a century of wind and rain.  Before 
   you pass by, stop and look.  Consider them;
   by their stones' grandeur, some were very rich – 
   sea captains, merchants or judges perhaps.  
   Most were poor, yet they, too, held a niche 
   in our community.  Look at them now,
   the haughty, the down-trodden—no difference—
   rotting in a weedy churchyard, surrounded 
    by a creaky, black and rusted wrought iron fence.

 

4. Trash Truck
   As I walk the misty dawn,
   my peaceful reverie
   is rudely interrupted,
   assaulted
   by its sudden passing—
   the sharp hiss of air brakes,
   the doppled-down rumble,
   the thick, hot burst
   of garbage-scented wake.