Every morning when I sit on my porch
the wren balances on his house upside down
or sits on his favorite black walnut twig
and sings to me. His song is at least
three times as big as his body. He's happy
to have carried moths to his brood,
their open [...]
We're painting the old house in the Hudson Valley
and we're a team, applying the paint so smoothly
that not a drop gets spilled, it's all cream, and
for the first time he has no complaints about
the way I work. "Good job" he says and smiles
when we [...]
In the white house in Rutherford
the ancient upright piano never worked
and the icy kitchen smelled of Spic 'N Span.
Aunt Lizzie's pumpkin pie turned out green
and no one ate it but me and I did
because it was the green of the back porch.
That was t [...]
The daffodil is not like a trumpet
but an old stand-up telephone.
I can talk into it
and the roots will transmit
by gathering the voice
into the big base bulb
and pulse it through
in the hair roots.
I can neve [...]