Driving The Parkway

I.
Driving after sundown,
opening and closing windows
of an invisible world,
as if stones were slow
under the chipped and lacquered stars.
My dog’s gaze browsing places
where the sun blazed red,
a shadow moving over tall grass.
II.
The air, for a moment, green fire.
And then his laugh, pleased and satisfied
which may have been myself,
filled by the sound.
III.
Parkway praying in the Sioux garden, [...]

Moment

Before Haiku class,
actual grasses whisper.
Two dragonflies dance.

Here in the Deep, Painting in the Light

Suppose the yellowness
of the yolk
affects
color at the hayfield’s edge.
A few stalks
less white suddenly,
against the snow.
White marks
were hard to see
on white parchment,
but still
at the vanishing point,
the blue of the sky suggests
a certain
sweetness
of that sweetness,
a cloud.