set out by day, set out with water
full to the lip, you could say, the
old metal oil pan awaits visits
of finch, chickadee and an occasional
cat–but what, overnight, drains it so–
for three mornings in a row, a slight
swirl of ice left, a signature of what’s
unlappable, as if the local coyotes or
fox have found this watering to their
taste on their nightly rounds–there’s
a need to nail this down, solve the
ghost, frame a picture of what happens
when happening goes unseen, un-
noticed–right now clouds churn sun-
rise grays and creams into beehives
of lightly living above the earth,
there’s so much give and take it
becomes and is becoming–the
unlappable, unstoppable overwintering
(now that Winter drags her finger
down your back) as small trees
watch what’s dragged from the woods
I like the new poems. Looks like you’ve had more time to write during winter break. I picked out some shorter poems for the Pocket Book, though the last one was just a stanza from a poem that was probably too long for such a short format. Thanks for turning me onto the small books; they made pretty good stocking stuffers. And thank you again for taking the time to write a letter of recommendation. It means a lot.