The Back Door Screen

The hinges and spring
in chourus sing
With every squeak and skrong
they sing this song
A melody of memories
of all who happened through

Each charge of children
Every covered caserole
And friends who came to call

Every sneaking out early
Every creeping in late
A bundle of joy carried in
An empty vessle carried out

Every slamming marks a moment
Where everything changed
Everything changes
And the screen sings no more

The Plien Air Painter

The moment of now
brief beyond discretion
Between a memory
and an anticipation

The Artist stretches
a second into a stroke
The first brush
hours before the last
A signature says
“I saw this”

And the moment now
realizes itself
Between a memory
and an anticipation