It is late…..

It is late and I am going to bed.  There is a scratching sound then it stops.  Could it be a bug or a mouse trying to get out of this basket?  I shake the basket.  No sound.  The sound comes again.  I look around and there it is.  A gecko is half in and half out of my writing book. It has clawed its way out of the pages of paper.  Bright green with little eyes, tail and hind legs still in the book.  I carry the book outside and free it like a poem into the night air.

It is late…..

Illusion

 

a thud on the window

see-through glass brings the woods outside in

just for a second the bird believed it could fly into my living room

hit hard

spine fracturing thump

 

 

a pine siskin is convulsing outside on the deck

its beak moving as if it eats

feet traveling in a journey

wings that cannot move

Illusion

More Than

Less than a week of being off the water of the mighty Colorado River, my body is still rocking. Some call it disembarkment syndrome when your mind is sensing movement that is no longer there.

My mind returns to the shore of the Grand Canyon, Poncho’s Kitchen, thick sand, rock ledges where the silent scorpion was ready to pounce on a moth that night. How it glowed white under Danny’s UV light and we watched it move in its own darkness.

what we cannot see
hidden in summer shadow
more than time and space

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dVerse prompt on sounds of summer – most scorpions make no sound – saw my first one while camping on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon

More Than

Wild Docdodu

Find the wild docdodu

It has six legs

And won’t bite you

It hides in trees and on the ground

With eyes of yellow it looks around

Sometimes you can see it too

Because it has a skin of blue

If it would ever show it’s head

You’d see an elongated neck

With beak the size of your mother’s bread

I thought I spied it the other day

It had come to the ground

And was running away

I called it by name

But it wouldn’t stay

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NaPoWriMo prompt on a list poem so here is the list to identify the wild docdodu

Wild Docdodu