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EveningThe curtains flutter and for a moment I think someone's dancing on the lawn. ©BLBruce, 2009.
GhostIn the middle of the afternoons she lays out her dead lover's clothes on the bed: a green plaid jacket, white t-shirt, dark blue denim jeans with holes at the heels and at the knees. A heavily broken-in pair of snea…
The TrainThis morning the cattails sway under the weight of red-winged blackbirds with their sputtering chatter. Amongst marsh reeds the subtle croak of toads echo out and into glassless windows.And because neither had…
The Hare, the Sparrow, and the Marlin The grass does not live in me, nor the tangled mess of roots, the constellations of pebbles in the dirt.The hare's fear of the coyote, the heron and the sparrow's wing-beat live in m…
Traveling East Through VermontSugar maples blush in the chilling autumn gusts. White-tailed deer bound over brooks, settling a path in thick, dew-studded meadows. Dusk, we drift along a highway through shadows of birch …
The Morning Poem.A glacier of fog advances and meanders-- more quickly than ice might-- into the forested basins one morning in October.And seeing this, I have the urge to write poetry, but born from the breath in all…
Sand Dollar BeachLooking through a thick curtain of fog, only a small porthole of Sand Dollar Beach is exposed before the sun wakes and the waves smother the sand at high tide.But when the tide ebbs and falls away, the …
Somewhere After The day slips away behind the distant rounded peaks of sleeping sun-worn trees, sliding like honey over the hips and breasts and tongues of mountains licking the last of the golden waves of light f…
Albion We race the falling sun beyond the yellow hills and past green grape vines and barns bending into meadows under their roofs painted the color of dried blood. The highway points west, leaping out over cliffs e…
Robin's Song For my Papa on Father's Day For the first time I notice a few gray hairs …