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Winter Ferry
As floating slates bombard the pier,
The ferry bites the dock; its whine
Invites commuters to align,
To board in order and cohere.
Among blank faces in the cold,
He sees her clutching to a rail.
Eyes meet—unable to curtail
His stare: it is her stranglehold
Of bundled beauty held by dusk.
A tug nibbles their path through ice—
Arrived, they queue, her scarf wrapped twice,
She weaves through weather, frigid, brusque.
The slates glide by, grind and revolve,
Diffusing like the unseized chance;
The jigsaw puzzle of a glance
Whose pieces wither and dissolve.
Lichen Pastels
We came across ground lichen—glorious
And stalwart British Soldiers in the field—
Consolidating land, victorious
In the green and red apparel they revealed.
They prosper quietly beside the dank
Decaying wood in voluntary roles
As infantry recruits of lower rank,
Displaying fine pastels while guarding voles.
These fungi grow the quarters that provide
Free lodging for the algae that in turn
Nourish the host and decorate the wide
Variety of growth that we discern.
Superior bonds are rare; but as we traipse
Beyond their synergy, these lichen vie
With zealous yeast that love vine-ripened grapes
Consumed on wings that scribble in our sky.
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