windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::


something holds the trees
as spring’s first storm sends them swaying.
feet at shoulder width.

for burton watson

how did i fail to notice that you were on
my nightstand, the night you stepped into the spring?
never having left my village home,
pictures of far-off lands inform my dreams.

growth mindset

after years of drought,
weeds and flowers both look sweet.
pause, and reassess.

current administration

here’s my aspiration (to be clear):
to put my arm around these guys
who want to run the show, and tell them “thanks
for trying, but really, notice

that the folks don’t thrive the way you’re going,
and hey, you’re better suited for
this other task, that folks will thank you for,
and hold in high regard.”

help me, folks, to find that task. to make
a place for all the awkward ones
to find the love they seek, however off
the mark that last try landed.

early spring

plantain flowers draw
their stems upright, above the
tall grass, toward the sun.