Baklava
 
La Madrugada
 
Oatmeal
 
August 4th
 
Where are you going?
 
Sunset Trail
 
Richie
 
Ancestral Crimes
 
Peaceful Here
 
Early Morning Prayers
 
Feline Wisdom
 
Yellow Canyons
 
Edge of the World
 
Silver Weaver
 
Grace
 

 
First Day 

Have you ever watched
The squirrels
In the soaring pine trees
Run the highways
Of their branches
Back and forth
Between the trees
Squabbling in their
Chirpy way?

I have.

I wonder what they
Say to each other.
“Get off my branch or
Come over and have a nut
With me.”

Below, miles below
In human terms,
The dogwoods bloom.
Their white petals
Fall to earth like
Drifting snowflakes.
The birds, all kinds,
call out their morning song,
Flap their wings
Against the wind
Create the morning’s
Symphony of sound.

It is my first day married.
I have no more lists to check
No more vows to write,
No more make up to apply.
No more tears to cry.

So I sit.
And listen.
Happy.

 Diane Sherman  /  May 14, 2007