Michael H Lester

USA

 

 

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a two-bit hustler
in the silver-dollar saloon
throws snake-eyes
those loaded dice no match
for the outlaw's six-gun

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cherry pits
dry on the windowsill
I imagine
a hanami festival
in my own backyard

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the cuckoo
with its guttural croak
and black bill
vanishes in the foliage
like a thief in the night

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in search of the truth
these cracked brown feet
have scaled mountains
weathered fierce blizzards
and forged raging rivers

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perched on a limb
this troubadour sparrow
whistles
a bewildering assortment
of enchanting birdsong

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its feathers
shimmering jet black
the raven
pecks at the cobblestones
one eye on the children

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