Mascara’d vegetation bats its green
audacity and amplifies the breeze
singing through new-lingering day: cool-jazz suite
backing the birds. Kinetic blooming. Keen
riffling. Cobbled ruffling. Flimsy blanket-billow.
Cavalier matins began the scramble
under porcelain, moon-lit cumulus,
velour milieu still cloaking my pillow.
Resurrected spring re-relished refutes
whichever well-heeled cons are in cahoots.
D. R. James, recently retired from nearly 40 years of teaching college writing, literature, and peace studies, lives, writes, bird-watches, and cycles with his psychotherapist wife in the woods near Saugatuck, Michigan. His latest of ten collections are Mobius Trip and Flip Requiem (Dos Madres Press, 2021, 2020), and his prose and poems have appeared internationally in a wide variety of print and online anthologies and journals