NEW ENGLAND

BURIAL

Tis a gift to be
humble
in a white clapboard
kind of way
at the funeral of a father
of a friend.

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ENGLAND

DEAR HUSBAND

Plain Jane,
with the curl that never stayed behind her ear,
wife of a beloved John,
who liked to tuck it back.

Gone to her maker,
on a cold February morning,
when the fog rolled in cross the Mendips
and cloaked his grief from her eyes.

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NEW ZEALAND

I KNOW A LAND WHERE THE BELLBIRD CALLS

Cold schist and black manuka,
shadow riven, gully washed.
Bronze beech and greening poplar,
arrow sharp, cobble tossed.

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MONTHS

A CARDINAL TOLD ME SO

Spring came in at my window today
and bid me walk a while
in prayer.

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