The Water

The water turns here
by rote – a recitation
plump with gurgle
and moonwork

no one can say
why this turn,
I like to think
it followed a swift
changing its mind,

that it enjoyed
its tap shoes
on these rocks,

that an ambling lazy
afternoon, for moments,
became a stream

around the corner, a poem

butterfly 50

a butterfly’s errand.
over there.
somewhere around
the corner of
the house.
somewhen lovelier
than now.

perhaps an impossibly
beautiful tomorrow.
just now at 1pm.
a butterfly’s midnight
in the offing.
making promises
that you and I will
never hear.


Photo: BabaMail