walk down Highfields
seagulls stand on frozen lake
Sunday people jam the park
squirrel jumps trunk to trunk
It's black, I don't know where I am
Do not turn on the light, she says
What is your name, I know your voice
and who are all these people here
I feel their breath but cannot see
I'm on a bench in friendly sun
Half an oak is dappled white
Love, I think, is in the shadow
in the texture, in the noise
~ ~ ~
Tax Break
This was my house
400 years ago
This rocky path
the 4' thick walls
This spongy turf
the plot where I slept
They bought my home
to let trees grow and hunt
gave the forest instead of tax