Two Poems

Autumn Roads

A forest with many many lonely standing birch,
paper bark, whirligigs and piebald leaves filling the
shallow ruts of mysterious roads passing among the trees.

Egg white clouds drift the clear blue sky,
while you and I drag kites through the cold winter's air, air.

 

Paper Bark

Her children are both delicate.
I hear they
write poems on milk white birch bark
in the dead of winter.