Saturday, February 25, 2017


Their feathers are left
over the roof corridors
near the weather vane
in the cleft of a nest
after their bird flight
in the anonymous sky
this February
illuminating my hope
for an early spring
here at first light
taking care
of a neighbor's sheep dog
in my sound proof studio
living with jazz nostalgia
playing riffs on my tenor sax
in my poetry underground
waking up from sleep
watching hopscotch
and soccer players
in the breathless breeze
surround the park
in the field of Oak trees
as we make our way
for a bog turtle rescue
still in the dark.

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