Blue space

Hey you, tired eyes,
see that bit of blue sky
between the clouds?

I cut it out for you.

Now next time
you’re waiting for the green man
or for another sign to cross,
look up to the sky,
that blue space is just
for you.

There is always space
for you. 

The fox I see each night
(I call him Carlos)

This fox scrapes his plate of grass
In the hour after the sun goes down,

His silhouette stencilled in
Against the old amphitheatre,

Overgrown. A shooting star
Goes over his head

And the ground
Gives birth to a worm.

Paws separate the grass
And he pounces head first, eyes

Widening and reflecting
Off of the dew. It is a feast –

The silence of the trees around him,
The empty paths and the

Waning moon. He chews
Slowly.

The Hill

When approaching a hill,
know that more steps will be involved,
that this will take longer
than that last mile on flat ground,
that your lungs are gonna take a hit
from your heart beating at your ribs,
that you’ll sweat
and take in all the air around you
just to catch a breath,
that it’s steeper than it looks
and you won’t care about the middle,
you’ll only care about the end,
the top of the hill,
where the air is still enough
to catch you off guard
and make you notice
all the things on the horizon
that now stand in your reach.