Jonathan Dodd

 

 

Tiny bright flowers

Dusting the land; phosphor trails

On the grassy sea.

 

 

Flowers are pinholes

Where bright drops of paint seep through

The thin skin of earth.

 

 

Feasting birds festoon

Holly tree branches; Christmas

Tree decorations.

 

 

A fish flicks the reed

Leg of a waiting heron.

The pincer-bill strikes.

 

 

Pretty mistletoe

French-kisses the tree like a

Vegetable vampire.

 

 

A silent Blackbird

Perched on a bare winter branch

On a moonless night.

 

 

She died where she fell,

Naked exhausted and starved.

What is there to say?

 

 

The Stars are like dust

In God's kitchen. Luckily

He hates cleaning up.

 

 

To decide my fate

I tossed a coin in the air.

It didn't come down.