Joseph Farley

Greenhouse Winter

Snow drips from the roof

half liquid half solid,

ploop in the driveway.

The snow does not last

the way I used to.

A quick thaw

is to be expected,

taxing roofs and

drainage systems.

It does not seem

like winter

with one day cold

and the next

sixty degrees.

I look out

from my window

and do not see

tomorrow,

only rows of houses

and circling cars,

maybe a cardinal

fluttering red

against white

near a stand of trees,

a flickering hope

of future springs.





alone

it is good

to be alone

quiet and orderly



if you can stand

being alone



no one to tell

"come see this"

"have a listen"



if they were there

they would not car

so what's the difference?



sit in silence

and clear your mind

listen for

the universe

to sing




long grass




no need to mow

watch it wave

in the wind



pollen

makes eyes itch

no matter



the wind is

talking

with the grass



and I want

to listen




Sixty Degree Solstice

warm December rain

snowman thoughts washed away

through greenhouse gutters





moss green on north wall

beneath shade of three pine trees

house ruin no more







A Face In My Mind

in Shenzen a girl asked my name.

there was a smile, a thought, a moment,

but time made all things blur.

now there is only a feeling

of what was or may have been.


Joseph Farley edited Axe Factory for 24 years. His books include Suckers, For the Birds and Longing for the Mother Tongue (March Street Press).