Auntie Duchess

Auntie Duchess,
cool as cotton sheets in summer,
her smooth fingers dancing
with acrobat grace through nested hair
to leave behind a trail
of tightly braided rows,
whispers
"Hush now, hush now.
It's all the ashes of a burnt up day."

Chainsaw on Cherry Wood

I find nothing beautiful
In the shredding sound
Of chainsaw on cherry wood.
Why do machines always seem
Angry?

By the end of the day
Another hole has opened in the sky.
No shelter -
No shelter -
No shelter from the blistering sun
Of this new age.

Even to trees death must come.

Are these the things
  that help old women
    lay down their arms and say
     
Good night?