The greens of fields expand
And purple
Deep in sheltered places
Birds catch the light
And mimic last night's fireflies.
A line of fence posts
Cuts across the center range
From where I sit
I see connecting strands of fire.

"It stands in me that house I look for still in me that shelter I have not possessed since I was young..."

Rainer Marie Rilke

Perfection borrows
From the book of Gods
It never ends
It sprinkles crystals
On the peaks of mountains
Gilds days and nights
With an alchemistic glow
Gives birth to rainbows
Even in the dark.

White flowers
and an old cranberry rake
share the sun
on the front step
of a Carver country store.