Rainbow in April

April again,

the wind

falls in love with itself

skipping across asphalt

and concrete bare

with the breaking weather.

A rainbow

is half arched,

broken off deep

into the aorta

of the sky.

It hangs

from elastic

rubber bands

of mixed colors

dipped in God's

inkwell,

airbrushed

by the fingertips

of Michelangelo.

April again,

the wind steps high.


















 

            Dove Poem

I hear

scratch of

little dove feet.

I hear peck

of little dove bills

in bird seed basket

on my balcony-

in near silence

on rain-filled

afternoon-

lightening,

thunderstorm

overhead darkness,

cramped up with rage,

holds off a minute

so I may

hear these sounds.

Red Rocking Chair

A red rocking chair

abandoned in a field

of freshly cut clover,

rocks back and forth-

squeaks each time

the wind pushes

at its back,

then,

retreats.