Free Verse
Spirits
streaked spears
of morning sunlight
pierce the tall pines,
gleam the soft, tawny
winter grass sloping
down to a hollow
clouds of fog,
an infiltration of spirits,
seep up, drift rapidly
across the sparkling
wet asphalt
of a declining
driveway which empties
into a boxy house
gutters flaked, rotted
lined with droplets
pearled white
in the shadowed eaves
Haiku
slow love
the party after
the party
