Old tree is barking at the moon
Squirrel is telling a tail of balance

Fence is fighting off the neighbors
Streetlights are glowering at the dark

Fire is thinking of an old flame
Autumn is falling over itself to get here
Sea breeze is blowing smoke

Clock points the way for the snow geese
Flat surface of the lake is an old man sitting in a bar waiting for no one
Wolf howls on the mountain for its long lost bird

Evening disguises itself as a door
Door disguises itself as the wrong door

Cricket’s song translates a dream’s forgotten language
Gate swings open to let the night in
Night closes the gate behind it

Mist is a yellow-headed snake searching for its sister the sun
Old shoes are dry grass waiting for rain
Dew gets up and leaves everything it owned except for its one book
Voiceless monarch sings to its ancestors a song of victory that cannot be heard

In the prism night
Wind wraps itself around it all and steals away

Selected byNolcha Fox
Image credit:Rafael Garcin

I am a retired entomologist/educator and have been writing poetry for a long time. It's only been in the last few years that I have taken it a little more seriously. I have written hundreds of poems, but still don't consider myself to be an accomplished poet. I keep trying through writing to find new perspectives that reveal the layers of meaning that are always there, just below the surface of the obvious. Some of the poets who have influenced me are W.S. Merwin, Ted Hughes, Dylan Thomas, and Galway Kinnell. However, lately, I agree with what the Poet Laureate Kay Ryan said: "I have tried to live very quietly, so I could be happy...It seems like many people think that if you drive yourself crazy, then you can write. I wanted to see what a fortunate life would produce. What writing would come out of this mind that didn't try to torment itself."