In Texas,
Land of guns,
And oil fields,
And chain gangs,
They warm sea turtles
In plastic bins
When it gets cold,
And send them on their way
When the sun returns.

I sat by the water
In my Walmart folding chair.
A gull came to visit.
He told me
He played on the wind all day,
But his feathers were finer
Than my polyester fleece.
I think I saw that in the Bible.
Then he flew away
With one of my corn chips.

Some of today's children
Still swim in wild lakes,
Where the fish nibble toes,
And weeds slither around bare legs.
They sing songs together,
Which echo across the water.
Two loons herd their children away,
And their prehistoric
Cries of protest
Echo across the water.

All things die,
Even tree houses,
And trees.
Far away,
The children who played here,
Among green leaves,
Sigh
Their children
Never call.

The cat
Brings my wife toys
At night
He drops
A velvet mouse
By her head
And curls up at her feet
I pull her close
And feel the soft flannel
I left for her
Under the Christmas tree.

Only when the leaves have fallen
And the world is quiet
As the snow falls softly
Can I hear the lonely wail
Of distant trains
As they run down the tracks
Far away from my window

The sun shines bright on Agate Bay.
Lake Superior is cobalt cold,
And the wind never stops,
Hurrying the little waves,
Onto the red pebble beach,
Which hurts bare feet.
Two girls in bikinis walk
With eyes downcast,
Looking for the pretty stones.
Indifferent to the gelid wind.