Dance hall

The men repeat like stripes on plaid,
measured by the yard and cut where convenient.
They hide goat hooves in fancy shoes.
They put on suits and dance!

The women step out, gentle as Jove,
to loose themselves in music.
They dance with each other
forgetting as they spin, spin, spin.

In that pattern a spotlight burns
two lovers locked in slow turn uncertain.
They feel out for each other and the music.
One outline, they loose form in dance.

Election 2016

I thought that the time was over
for pushing boulders up hills. I thought
that we had done something, changed
something. I thought we could be proud,
 that the time for heroics were done,
that the arguments were already made.
I thought that blood spilled
by someone else had been enough.
I thought that all I had to do
was to keep my own house clean.
I thought that when I said we, I
meant us, the US.

The rapist, the racist, the xenophobe:
they are part of us.

Never again will I believe that we
can rest.

Haiku

I feel the eminence (and imminence) of spring today, so I've scribbled out two Haiku's to describe how I feel about winter, and two for what I see around the corner.  I might have to do four more of these on a less traditional subject in my next post.

Don't see anyone
looking for shade in winter.
Guess it's not sunny.

It's February.
The sky is grey and forever.
Still, winter will give.

The bees are buzzing,
and all I can think about
is the taste of honey.

Look, cherry blossoms!
The wind blows through the orchard
and the blossoms fall.