Quiet On the Dock

The fishermen could be asleep
or maybe they'll drink
honey wheat.

She says she loves
to cuddle above
the mud
and the lightning bugs.

Gray Hair

Our hair grows gray
on the mexican sarape.

What's been done
and what's to come.

Unsure What I Love

I'm looking forward to the doors
with their creaking boards,
our children crawling
on the floor.

Most Things I Feel

I cannot mention
most things I feel:

her aches keep my heart -
to sweep leaves in piles
and jump like a child,
crumbling wild.

Less Is More

Sometimes I feel like the mute person has the most to say,
the bird without a beak has the most to sing,
the cripple with no belongings has the most to give.

I want to be smaller,
so He can be larger.