Egg tottering,
        nest ruptured by careless wind,
        future flight’s dashed promise,
        embryonic wings unformed.

Bird ghost’s
        first and last airborne arc,
        parabolic to slate below,
        shattered shell and yellow stain.

Surprised child
        stops, curious, then home
        crying in fear, chased by
        angry mother cawing grief.

On Yellow

Despair of yellow if you wish —
The taint of 
   choleric bile,
   Midas’ daughter,
   snow pee,
   jaundiced eyes.
While Orpheus’ golden lyre 
      went to Hell and back,
   sunlight echoed on dayend clouds,
   towheads ran on Baltic sand,
   dandelions colored my hand.
Jacob’s stairs still ascend 
   — presumably to Heaven —
But who waters the geraniums?

Red, Blue, Yellow

My friend, the under-employed artist, sold photos to the Sunday edition of the paper. Strictly freelance, not a regular job. “Shoot anything but put three kids in the middle, in red, blue and yellow.” The formula never failed. Every Sunday, $25. It paid the rent.