ABSOLUTION

The birds in the wetland
speak to me in my dreams,
telling tales of what this place
was before we arrived
and forever changed it.

They don’t curse us, although
they remind us we are cursed
by our own actions, but
they do pity us, ground bound
living in our own waste.

In the morning the birds
have disappeared, a few
vultures carrying off the bodies
left by the bobcats whose
territory we have made our own.

At night I say a prayer
for the departed birds, and in
my dreams they come again,
and reject my prayer as hollow
and seeking only absolution.

FINALLY FALLING

Outside the snow finally falls
and presses
the last fallen
Maple leaves
into the ground
free, for now
from the rake.

Outside the snow finally falls
and for a few hours
November is redeemed
and my shoes
are suddenly inadequate
even on the half
plowed road.

Outside the snow finally falls
and the full moon
accepts it’s obscurity
while the cat
stares longingly
out the window.