Poem Category: Spring

Peach orchard
on father’s shoulders
she picks the first fruit.

Orchard
closing wounds after the hail
the ooze of peaches.

Fatherlands
the gypsy geese’s
touch-down again.

Paris cafe’s
empty umbrellas
spilling the rain.

Cold winds
jerking at the weight
on my dragon kite.

Wedding photographer
gathers us in the wind
about the church yard.

In it, up to their necks
the snow stretched
buttercups.

Moon swept tides
by such force
the kelp forests sway.

In the fish pond
no moon to float
the moth’s flutter.

Candles and wine
the white glove moon
on her ring-less hand.