Virginia Brady Young,
R.E.T. Johnson &
Janice Bostok

[first published as a supplement to TWEED, Vol.5 No.4 June 1977]

first year
of the weeping cherry
one blossom on a bough

his face lined in tree-shade
the toddler's toothy grin

a cloud
casting quietness over
the chirping bird

her voice lower and lower
under the blankets

in the moonlight

dead possum by the road
-- turning away

her face
oblique in the moonlight
& the hardness of rocks

Beyond the barranca
the cry of a deer

6 am in the valley
the cathedral bell sounds
the angelus

a woodpecker drills
a railroad tie

today's heat --
only the sun moves
the sunflowers

a teardrop soaks
into the bare earth

tilting my head
smoke of a jet
across the moon

any night now
it'll be the geese

clearing my throat
the first chill
of autumn

an entire tree --

untimely scattered
by the quake

tonight undisturbed
by his snoring

and the spurt
of the sea
thru the blowhole

as the tide reclaims
its spawning grunions

beneath the surface
the mushroom coral
appears to undulate

all the way down
goes the sun

half way up
the rustling pine --
owl eyes

just a wisp of cloud
breaking the milky way

the tired smile
on her face

she strolls back from the mine
beheading flowers

dust rises in puffs
from the child's
dragging feet

the slow-moving goose
overtakes her on the road

the blind girl
sings prettily enroute
to the burning farmhouse

a crow its head cocked
peers at the reddening sky

the time of day
when things aren't clear --
not even to hens

a grey fox slinks in
and out of the ground fog

she rests awhile
on a fallen tree
fingering the moss

the forest in her fingernails
the tangling of the sky

she gets younger
the sapling older --
spring breeze

the laden bough settles
under the weight of another bird

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