Again, to the Well

Odd that you chose a well
To describe what you see;
Years ago I wrote of such,
Wondering if others could ascertain
The meaning of my words.

And now I sit there again,
Pondering the reflective waters,
Eager for a swim,
But terrified of getting wet.

Quietly, I walk across the warm bricks,
Only to walk back and sit again.
No encumbrance is greater than comfort,
An unwillingness to change,
Only to ponder such.

But you are right—
I do not search for this—
It finds me,
In the same place as before,
Seated on the edge of the well,
Staring into the icy waters
That only warm on the surface.

— 2006

Bird

Damn you, wretched bird,
Foul creature of the air.
Too long you have haunted me,
Tracing my every step.
I have answered your knock;
I have seen your black,
Reminding me of past mistakes,
And unchased dreams.
Just today, you showed yourself again,
Slowly stepping behind me,
Coyly pecking the ground,
Hoping your motive would not be seen.
But I know you too well.
Nothing pleasant in you can be found.
Knock no more upon my door.