so far this season
has been unseasonably cold
with its sunlight
sprinkled sparsely
on a stone wall

dawn oozes over the hills
like chilled syrup
with a few clouds
stuck in its puddle

the ancient pine begs the wind
to give it back its youthful figure

in late dusk, the meadow
spreads a great shadow

as twilight peers
in at my window
then shakes its head
and walks away

moonlight
drops handfuls of stars
in the tall grass

thoughts settle on their perches.

a single feather drifts down

no news is good news. (there are two
ways to read that--either an absence of news
is good, or all news is bad)

the chimney sweep showed up today
and swept the chimney. (well, not
actually with a broom,
he used several rods that fit together,
a rotating drill rig,
and some chains.) he was full
of news, none of it good.

the creosote was formidable,
the cellar, moldy. ( i first spelled that
like celery without the "y") he told me
that i really need to do something
about the stove and the mold.
( that's what all the guys say)
he doesn't know about my bad spelling.

it's true i once slept with
the chimney sweep
more than once.

but there was a reason for that--

he and i were married, lived in a
simple cabin
and had several children
one of whom
he delivered (sans doctor)

(not exactly true--i did the delivering,
he did the catching.) it's odd
that today he's "sweeping" my chimney.

he has rewritten history, erasing
the part where he abandoned us,
and never bothered with his kids again...

"i'm not into it," he said.

it's true i once slept
with the chimney sweep,
more than once. (once
when i could spell
and i was young.)