
The wind strips seasons from the year
My love has held nothing in place –
and has itself, some of it, gone
to where love and time decompose
in a field of stars and glass.
Americans

Birds near Castricum

Rain

Sea star

Another of her secrets she shares
You’re not made of sugar, she says
when it’s raining.
She can see me not melting.
Island time

Fish dreams

Parasol, or Britain leaves the E.U.
Judgments crowd the heart
where chastity would dwell in privacy.
She would be magnanimous in isolation,
making no hard choice of the spirit,
but having instead her lake,
her begonia, her tea.
Her footman will dispatch
the stranger at the door,
and shade will beget
no dark fantasy.