Eating out of Our Hands

No matter where

They may be hiding

In the wilderness,

Every once in a great while

Little creatures venture out

And make us feel very small. 

Felled

Forget about that conundrum— 

Nothing sounds 

As clear-cut 

As a voice crashing 

In the wilderness. 

Reverberations

Cicadas? 

Long after you stop wondering 

Where they’ve gone, the air’s still 

Thrumming underground. 

Step Lightly All the Way

           
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Passing Glance in a Mirror

Once a child, always 

A child they say but how 

Was it when you saw that 

Boy growing into a man 

You didn’t stop to ask.