Stacking Rocks

Someone is stacking

                 stones
                   on
                 stones
in this field of stones,

possibly simply to perplex,
or maybe they are minor art,
expressing balance
and implying impermanence.

The dog does not know them,
and I am careful only to
not let his leash upend them.
Soon enough the wind or water will displace,
return them to their scattered homes
in the background uniformity of uniquely rounded rocks.
The significance of these stones is small,
whether spread apart or stacked. In fact,
the only thing that matters is whose hand
has placed them where. A person tells us
"I am here," but the world says only
"Here, I am."

October 31 2011

Another New England Wall

Downward deep these rocks would drive
into darkness if the soil would let them;
but this practical New England ground 
knows what it's doing. Walls would be no use below;
stone and stick, trash and clay, 
and sand must all sustain them. They
are needed here above, not only to delineate
but to remind each walker and each driver by
of what the bones of earth personify:
the weight of patience,
the burden of belief in fortitude,
and like the lichen slowly flowering across their faces, 
the irresistible advance of glacial time's
long journey toward redemption.

October 28 2011

One Dog Happy

One dog happy
is worth as much
as many days of quiet introspection.

October 25 2011

Another Dead Animal Poem

He wants to visit the dead fox,
being drawn upwind by the knowledge of it there.
We are both consistently amazed by it,
each in our own way.
Where is this fox, he asks with his nose.
I wonder if there is meaning in that rigid snarl,
or the way the poor remnant of a body folds
so sharply backward on itself.
Is there anything here for him? Anything for me?
Let his senses tell him now; mine may never say.
We move on; time is short,
and there are many further things in life to smell.

October 24 2011

Clean Laundry

The clothes have been lying in these baskets
far too long,
unfolded,
cluttering,
and making it much more difficult to find
what we should wear tomorrow
or today.
I cannot, would not simply stuff it into drawers,
and there are choices to be made--
whose clothes are whose?--
and it takes work.
At least it's clean, but laundry never stops,
so there is in fact some urgency:
Don't let the next load make a mountain
that might fall or overwhelm you.
You do the best you can;
it's not ideal, but I'm afraid
that this must wait here on display,
reminding me to find the time and will
to put it all away, each item in its proper place
and neatly folded.

October 22 2011

About Dog Hills

What is it about hills
that makes you want to climb so fast?
You know that's not my speed, but still
I'm thankful for the leash
that keeps you with me, and that lends
me some of your young energy
to help me climb the hill.

October 22 2011

Family Outing

Up the autumn hillside
sunstruck in the wind
he glows
a rangy pup
whiter than the rushing clouds
or the sandy trail below.
Their voices high discuss
imaginary worlds
while she, behind,
is watchful,
guardian of their happiness
and wellspring deep of mine.

October 15 2011

Before the Clocks Change

Up the road
a fall of yellow leaves
stands in for a streetlight's glow,
momentarily misleading me
into more than actual darkness.
I know it is coming soon,
after one last temporary reprieve;
then the actual streetlight will stand in
for yellow leaves in daylight.

October 13 2011

Dream 3D

Thought I'd try converting this poem to 3D. You need red/green glasses to view it.