Red Robin

Thoughts of robin red
landing deftly upon rubble,
rumbling rotors and greeting wings
fluttering hearts awaken.

Mothers watch black bags
stuffed, zipped, and tagged.
Packaged in parking lot rows.
Sons and Daughters from
backyards, barns, and bowery.

Yet they arrive, robin
Red-breast bathing in
first washes of sunlight
that Awakens Springtide
blades. I cleanse my duka.

This place− my past,
my present, my future.
Hiding pastel eggs, peeps,
kites, and some coin
for the children to find.

Springtide beckons forthwith,
holy, spirits, shamans, and witches
collide. Awakened. Coexist− women
and men, farm-boy and homey,
we must hang together: or hang.

The King and His Court
loft tridents with arbalests;
Do they see the dead
like Moms do? Through
corn stained fingers.

The garage stands
decades wise, rough-cut
lumber that grandfather
strung. I wonder when he
accepted the world's wrath?