the deer and the plane

riding my bicyle in the fields
i see a white patch in the distance
among the yellows and purples and greens
i look closer
it is a deer
watching me from across a
stream, so still
then, suddenly, bounding away, higher than
the goldenrod

coming down the path at the university
i hear a sudden noise
look up, and see a fighter plane,
flying so low, i've never see one so low,
taking up the sky
black mass against the blue sky
propellers spinning
i am struck, immobile, terrified
awed

the first thing you think
as you freeze and stare is
will you crash into me?
myself this small thing in the fields
watching, amazed
and then it passes
and you bound away into the fields
marvelling at the strangeness

Birth and travel

I dreamed this morning

Of a long road to water
Bravely trusting in the need of a friend to find it
Bravely travelling
Of the unexpectedly short road back
The long road there, part of the need

Of a house by a flowing stream
snow covered, made of branches and trunks
With wide doors

Of laying my body down next to hers
during the pains and heat of coming childbirth

The centre of necessity
The road there and back
Always waking before the final return

american sign language

signing under the moon and
red yellow green leaves
dusk in the park

signing on the line between
shorn soy fields and the hedgerow
at bright noon

signing in the kitchen
under quiet yellow light
the smell of cooking and night air