The Moon Is Not A Terrorist

The moon is not a terrorist; in fact,
She often visits both the poor and sick.
Although she has a schedule that is packed,
And often deals with clouds that can be thick,
She’s regular. And knowing that’s the trick:
The moon is true, not subject to caprice,
And that should bring no fear, but only peace.

The moon is not a soldier or a spy;
She does not aim to kill, or try to steal.
The moon’s a corporeal lullaby,
A friend, though far away, who’s very real,
Who gives your very goodnight a words her seal.
As children know, once sung their fav’rite tune,
It’s time to sleep when they hear “Goodnight, Moon”

A Winter Crow

I guess I am a winter crow.
Although I’m not a birder —
I’ve see so many of them now
It’s absolutely murder.

For many birds will go one way,
Together, in connection —
But I am always flying in
The opposite direction.

So I say, I’m a winter crow.
And will add, in concluding,
That people say I’m somber, when
It turns out I’ve
Been brooding

Frozen Rows

I stand amid the frozen rows,
And think of long-lost friends;
Where stones line up just like these trees
And sorrow never ends

I stand amid the winter gloom,
A hush is on the clearing,
I guess that I could join them all,
But I’m not volunteering

watermelon on the grass

 watermelon on the grass
(tell me, now, should i feel blue?)
 there's a happy little lass
(how come, then, not me or you?)

 comes the sunshine in the meadow,
(i thought dark was here. alas.
 this kid didn't get the memo --)