Marsupial Pockets

Eyeing a wild mustard border,

A seashore bank of wild weeds…

Forests with rock out cropping:

I see shelter for wildlife’s needs.

There is life in the invisible,

The more unkempt, the most alive…

Under my piles of twigs and grass,

Is where the wild youth thrives.

Baby bunnies step from weed tunnels,

Like flares from a July fourth rocket…

Liberated from the sticks and weeds,

That provided their marsupial pocket.

Adult rabbits, robins and red wings,

Live freely in the orchard each day…

Plucking a worm or blade of grass,

Unaware new freedoms make them prey.

Marsupial Pockets

Eyeing a wild mustard border,

A seashore bank of wild weeds…

Forests with rock out cropping:

I see shelter for wildlife’s needs.

There is life in the invisible,

The more unkempt, the most alive…

Under my piles of twigs and grass,

Is where the wild youth thrives.

Baby bunnies step from weed tunnels,

Like flares from a July fourth rocket…

Liberated from the sticks and weeds,

That provided their marsupial pocket.

Adult rabbits, robins and red wings,

Live freely in the orchard each day…

Plucking a worm or blade of grass,

Unaware new freedoms make them prey.

Desire Turns to Fire

It’s so cliché to speak of love,

So intense it sparks a fire.

The inferno spreads to heart and soul,

The accelerant's called, desire.

All of my fires were fatal,

By either cremation or passion…

Life spared no one in my heart,

Not one saved, and no lives rationed.

So many visit loved ones,

In nature as scattered ashes.

Observers can’t see the mourner’s wounds,

Their pain or unhealed gashes.