When mistakes are made

Having taken a running leap, 

My cat slides into the slippery rug, 

Which then wraps itself around him. 

So he settles in, wearing the white fringe 

 Like an Elizabethan ruff 

And pretending he meant to do this all along. 

Knowing it would make a pleasing portrait, 

He waits patiently for me to find my phone 

And photograph him, then leaps out of his nest 

And runs off in pursuit of his sister, 

Howling as he goes, rather like a human, 

Who, having made a mistake, 

Seeks someone else to loudly blame…

Compare, compare

Last night, the sunset was so lovely, 

I kept going outside to take more pictures,

 Hoping to capture it at its peak. 

This morning I find 58 new photos on my phone.

 How can I choose just one to publish 

And throw all these other beauties away? 

Compare, compare, compare: 

Is that really how you want to spend your time?

The mountain’s blush

All day and night, both ships and birds 

Are passing by the mountain 

But like a young girl waiting for her lover, 

The mountain only blushes with pleasure 

When her friend, the sun, appears.

Soul pleasures

High tide, a beach awash, 

 A sun-warmed cliff and a passing ship: 

Simple pleasures fill the eyes 

And simultaneously stir and calm the soul.

Radiance

Lit by the radiance of the morning sun, 

Even my potting shed is beautiful. 

So, too, the beauty of a soul 

Lit by the inner radiance of … 

How would you end that sentence? 

Faith? Truth? Hope? Love? 

And the greatest of these is…

Fall fashions

Dressed for their autumn fashion show, 

Each tree displays her wares 

With an eye to setting herself apart. 

While standing on the street corner 

To attract attention,

 One discreetly dangles her golden leaves 

 Like a flapper’s string of pearls 

While another makes up for her lack of height 

By clothing herself in vermilion lace 

And waving in the wind.

A grace-filled murmuration

The starlings gather in my yard, 

Chattering away as they swoop in, 

Landing en masse in the grass to feast 

On some unknown vegetation, 

And then, at some mysterious signal, 

They ascend as one into the air again, 

Circling until they alight again 

In some other part of the yard; 

Up and down, up and down,

A grace-filled murmuration, 

Like the Anglicans, who sit, then stand, 

Then kneel to pray, then sit and kneel again,

Then stand in church on a Sunday morning…