Late Winter Metamorphoses

This motionless old woman 

Looks like nothing so much 

As a lone black coat left on a bench. 

But she stirs 

As I approach and notice a grey blur 

Departing her left shoulder—a large locust 

Now fully airborne, heading I think, for the sun. 

Foolproof Modus Operandi

Just keep saying you’re nobody’s fool

Making sure nobody’s around to prove it. 

Raison D'être?

Because they are splendid 

Windbreakers, cypresses ring cemeteries— 

But that’s not the only reason 

They take our breath away.

Tenement Row Syndrome

Isn’t that where our lot turns in 

To a block of vacant stare cases?

Using Your Horse Sense

Riding a winged horse 

Sounds downright fantastic, 

Doesn't it? 

Just make sure it leads you 

To water you can drink.