Deciduous Doxology

I watched The Poconos wake up this morning.
Out the door at five-thirty,
and across the Gap by six,
I was there when they started their day.

The Dogwood Never Fails

An Ode to the Dogwood

Tulip People

An Ode to the Tulip

Route 31, 4:37 A.M.

On a Tuesday
at 4:37 A.M…

Magnolia Buds

Hang on, Magnolia buds, My dears! Hang on, Magnolia buds! Bear with this ill-timed Arctic air Withstand this undue frost. Nor let us come April into And fail to find thee there. March 28, 2022

April 9

There are three things which I do not believe— four that I will never understand: The ninny who announces that she doesn’t like bacon, the philistine who posits improvements of baseball, the charlatan who espouses a god in his own image, and the ogre who identifies his favorite season without stating first and foremost, unequivocally,

The Last Bath

Will we know it when it happens? And (if so) how will we know? Will we know that we know? Will we be able to recognize it? . Will the moment herald itself   with the shout of an archangel? Or will we anticipate its coy arrival with   a kind of parental prescience? .

The Maples of Broad Street

The maples of Broad Street
have ceased to be tame,
The maples of Broad Street
are shaking their manes

Cacophony

It must have been

an evening in early August

when ‘cacophony’ was coined.

What other moment

could have minted

such an awesome articulation:

the world’s most perfect word?

Chicory

Ode to the summer roadside’s unassuming garland