That small branch,
part of a much larger tree,
catches the light of the afternoon sun,
bends with the weight of a passing squirrel,
shifts ever so slightly, touched by a breeze –
a momentary receiver of whatever comes,
a momentary lender of itself.
JDG
Right before the day closed,
the sun emerged
to let us know
although it couldn’t stay,
it would be back.
JDG
Small brown birds gather at the brush pile
in my unmanicured back yard.
Here in this disordered space
they find food, community,
and refuge from soaring hawks
and more persnickity larger birds.
Here in this disordered space
they’re free to nest and sing.
JDG
Tonight as I try
to write, sleep tugs at my pen.
“Get some rest,” it says,
“and tomorrow you might have
something worthwhile to say.”
JDG
These sun-filled March days
invite us to step outside
and bathe ourselves
in the long-awaited warmth
of almost Spring.
Indoor chores can wait
for those days when March clings
to the cold and dreariness of Winter.
JDG
Knox peers at the sky,
wondering where soaring birds
are headed and why.
JDG
Depending on how
it strikes the receiver,
light can illuminate
or cast a shadow.
JDG
Tiny birds visit
the pile of fallen trees,
paying homage to what was.
JDG
Knox got his first
puppuccino from Starbucks
and signaled his pleasure
with a contented slurp
and a big puppy grin.
JDG
I tell my grandkids
that what they call
my wrinkles are really
wisdom waves.
They remain unconvinced.
JDG
