I am not the slightest bit a poet, but for some reason a few phrases have written themselves lately, so I thought I would share.

Spring - March 2007

the precocious magnolia bursts into bloom

scattering her welcome

for the wispy willow

and the delicate redbud

the gnarled oak yawns and stretches

the cardinal splashes across christened sky

breathe in the new and ancient wonder -

life

had not left us as we supposed

but merely curled up for a long winter's nap

Early Morning - May 2006
<Ray Meibaum's Morning Fog captures this perfectly> 

I saw something worthy of a photograph this morning
or maybe a painting

If my words could be a lens
I would frame you a tree

If my words could be a brush
I would paint you a sun

A tree laden with tears
A new sun still gathering strength
A breeze that ever so gently
coaxed them into sharing
their molten silver with me

ode to an hour of scales - November 2005

A is a wholesome key, like apples on a fall day.  it's a well-made pine bench among cousins of walnut and teak

B flat is a skater executing figures, with uneven intervals precisely turned

B is a mitten, fit perfectly in hand, always a welcome reprieve

C is stark sunlight, revealing all.  it is a stage spotlight, accepting no mitigation