An End to Eden

“An End To Eden”Eve

Eve offered it to Adam: “Take a bite!”

Meanwhile, the devil wormed his slimy way

into the apple’s core and out of sight.

“Hey, Eve, where did you find this fruit today?”

“My friend, the snake, said ‘eat it’ and I did.”

As Eve complained her stockings had a run,

poor Adam tasted evil that was hid.

They say the silkworm had such enterprise

as silk became the fashion of the day

to cost poor Adam all his daily pay.

Oh, Eden’s lost!  Our hero’s doomed they say

when Eve did stitch a fig leaf round his bay.



A Quiet Place

My prayer is mute

as hummingbird

whose pause is heard

mid hurried ohm

flutters wings

tips over open bud

and hovers, huddles home

in silent poem.

leucistic-albino-annas-hummingbird-flowerphoto by Sallie Rae Kimmel, California (a Leucistic, Anna’s Hummingbird)





at end of day

he comes to talk.

His dark, brown eyes are piercing me:

“I’m ready for my lesson, please.”

And, so, our game begins.

I mouth the dark, black, circled ‘ohm’.

Inspired, the terrier in him

‘tempts guttural with teeth and tongue

He must repeat, now, what he hears

yet issues forth his standard bark!

He tries again, a grinding growl

a lower tone with healthy howl

and I, excited, nod him “Yes!”

and he’s beside himself with joy.

The more my face makes round the sound,

he’s rolling on the floor, unbound

in doggy laughter!


“She’s Gone”


When he’s here,
I’ll not be there.
Everyone knows I’m a coward
who’ll refuse his foot-in-the-door.
I’ll pull the shades
turn off the light
throw the chain-bolt.
I will be sneaky
as he is punctual.

“You Take My Hand”


and in that gesture
satisfy my dizzy, naked need,
spellbound as spent leaf
whose golden moment
has no hunger left
but blissful floats
mid magic flutter
back to earth.

“Ah, Spring!”

It’s spring; it’s spring

the birdies sing with glee

as all around creeps the columbine vine

startling some stately tree.

It’s spring; it’s spring,

the fishes spin their tale

and swirling near streams, the wildflowers be

home for some tiny snail.

It’s spring; it’s spring;

the valley sings their song;

squirrels in tune

curl their tales at the moon

as green grass grows along.