Poem of the Week, November 8, 2024
First draft, first take, first day of grief

their diagnosis
terminal I can’t bear to
tell these chickadees

I walk the road north
saying sorry I’m sorry
to squirrels and deer

earth gives a sweet kiss
of dawn on our death’s forehead
goodnight poor humans

don’t tell old hermit
don’t disturb her prayers and work
stacking winter wood

ravens overhead
cluck like anxious grandmothers
who watch trouble come

han shan carves sorry
on each cold mountain path rock
only rocks will read

compassion kindness
our task always to choose tao
follow that way home

11/6/24