Barbara James Poems

thick dark Crows circling to land.
at dusk with brown leaves swirling-
-It's true. I am the black crow-
and the bare tree waiting.
...

Remembering the gate
and the speckled bird
who sang there
day after day
...

Purple salvia
a humingbird's attention
makes more meaningful
...

all heads turned my way!
I like to look at cows
Apparently,
they like to look at me.
...

Prickly fish
Your prehistoric scales
belie your immortality.
How many oceans
...

The earth was moving slower
it wasn't me there
when they said that mother died.
Echoes upon echoes.
...

In the still dark morning
you stand out stark white
below your sparse cover
Waiting and waiting
...

Freckles, the lovliest dog.
Long stretch in the morning,
From beginning to end,
no complaints.
...

Home the river way
dried leaves crowded underfoot
I know much shorter paths
But none so close to being.
...

Where was it?
I can't remember.
Tall green trees.
Brown pungent earth
...