to ward off
who knows what
i buy a dozen pencils
to be armed
just in case
***
***
covered quietly
by falling snow
in the woods
along with everything else
the deer’s remains
***
***
with three running lights
burning through the night
our neighbor’s house shipshape
on it journey
to tomorrow
-Gusts no. 33 spring/summer 2021
***
***
not once has any of them
signaled ‘goodbye’
when walking away…
yet they keep coming back ;
my deer family
***
***
upstairs sounds
of my cat running around
and caterwauling …
don’t I know these forces
at work in us all?
Gusts no. 32 fall/winter 2020
***
***
a lonely stretch
of road
with no passing
from one dream
into another
***
***
thistledown
in the air
as I begin the hike
wondering when
I’ll see you again
gusts no. 31 spring/summer 2020
***
***
I’m not even looking
for anything
second time out
to the empty
mailbox
***
***
the world
may be falling
apart
yet my skittish cat
settles on my lap
gusts no.30 fall/winter 2019
***
***
only a dream
yet so not me
to drive full speed
right through
a STOP sign
***
***
room by room
our house
undergoing KonMari-
in an easy chair
i drift off
gusts no.29 spring/summer 2019
***
***
even if I knew better
i might follow
the swallowtail
from one milkweed
to another…
***
***
our evening walk
into the dusk
and silence…
the hollowness
of a mourning dove’s call
***
***
what have I done
and can such a thing
be undone…
a doe waits and watches
expectantly for me
gusts no. 28 fall/winter 2018
***
***
these years
listening to the wind
in the trees …
where has my love
left me?
***
***
the work and gifts
of this world,
whether I do anything
or not,
summer stars
gusts no.27 spring/summer 2018
***
***
waves leaving the sound
of stones against stones
this lifelong mystery
of trying to become
myself…
gusts no.26 fall/winter 2017
***
***
one of my childhood drawings
of what looks like a factory
next to a cemetery,
as if i knew something
way back then…
***
***
below where the tree
broke off
some branches
carry on
in the wind
gusts no. 25 spring /summer 2017
***
***
another reminder
in this writing life
that it just may be
I’ll never get organized
in this life
***
***
this resignation
that even spilled tea
can bring up our need
for a different
bigger house
***
***
lying there
at the end of the bed
my cat shows me
what being fully content
is all about
gusts no. 24 fall/winter 2016
***
***
a scatter of feathers
under the big pine
in the cemetery …
piecing together again
my memories
***
***
reading an old letter
I wrote to my parents
from Mexico…
another part of me
gone with them
gusts no. 23 spring/summer 2016
***
***
before we were here
the centuries
already became eons,
the gravity of light on water
falling into dark
***
***
old friends
and flowers
faithful each year,
the smile of knowing
across the years
***
***
cloud gazing…
I thought about it
but wasn’t sure
what I’d do
with an empty mind
gusts no.22 fall/winter 2015
***
***
in the dark
these ruminations
of what I think
others think
I should be doing…
***
***
it had been years
but then just like that
an email shows up silently,
the way a death arrives
from far away …
***
***
more redundant snow…
time to let goof this day,
to sleep and take up
the life of dreams
and nothingness
gusts no. 21 spring/summer 2015
***
***
I am getting older
with these trees
but can still remember
as a child
I really loved old things
***
***
the time I’ve spent looking
for her slipper
outweighs any good cause-
any love lost
requires such searching
gusts no.20 fall/winter 2014
***
***
the logistics
not to mention the expense
has turned out ideal
this trip around the world
while lying in bed
***
***
I’ve found a place
this rainy January day
to be alone by choice
with some emptiness
that sustains me…
***
***
around the bonfire
conversation focused
on the past…
I bring woodsmoke
to bed
gusts no. 19 spring/summer 2014
***
***
in this last chapter
the cast of hundreds
in my dream
without my knowing
a single one
***
***
I’ve heard it enough
to know well
it is not a happy word,
yet she just said “whatever”
with a refreshing nice new tone…
***
***
quickening my pace
as the rain picks up
I reach an all-out run…
fully drenched I slow back down
to a walk again…
gusts no.18 fall/winter 2013
***
***
at the outdoor theater
my attention shifts
to a few wild geese
sounding through
the Shakespeare…
***
***
yet another message
to be found out here,
the plains town
football field
without a scoreboard
gusts no. 16 fall/winter 2012
***
***
so much
not happening
the way it’s supposed to;
not the least, our cat
circles the empty dish
***
***
pulling the sheet
and covers back
I get in and lie down
prepared for the theater
of my dreams…
gusts no.15 spring/summer 2012
***
***
everyone gathered
in a circle under the trees-
between readers
in the microphone
the wind
***
***
summer night
in a pile of rubble
the house’s scent,
a hundred years
just like that…
***
***
the grass gone brown
this summer of my 60th,
that much is clear…
now, to reclaim myself
in this long-term drought
gusts no. 14 fall/winter 2011
***
***
so many tangles
in the snowy thicket
the sparrows go through…
it’s the kind of place
my past resides
***
***
were I an old dog
with a happy grin
and even some naughty habits
it seems my family
might find me more sympathetic
***
***
passing by so close
and quietly…
it’s as if the dark permits
the deer and me
a mutual sense of safety
gusts no.13 spring/summer 2011
***
***
just as dutifully
as the cat
brought the mouse
I remove it
before my wife can see
***
***
in the attic
to find things to get rid of,
but the rain on the roof
lulls me to the joy
in each thing I find
***
***
inches away from me
in bed,
yet in my dream
I’m on the phone to tell her
I’m going for a bike ride
gusts no. 12 fall/winter 2010
***
***
the moon
after the rain
moldering leaves-
not that I ever could
make sense of my life
***
***
I ask him
if he believes
everything he writes…
yes, he says, God has said
it is all true
***
***
drawn to that page
in the paper as if
some great secret was there;
to see the age that
everyone left their life
gusts no. 11 spring/summer 2010
***
***
out in the woods a relic
with a rusty chrome bumper
detached…
it becomes my cross to bear
back home
***
***
it’s just
three little words
but she stops
crying
and we move on
***
***
the deer still finds
some reason to ford
the river swollen with rain,
how content I am
rarely fording anything
gusts no.10 fall/winter 2009
***
***
snow falling
in the dark woods
like endless thoughts
there is no way out
of who I am
***
***
from Trinidad and Tobago
his smile irresistible
and within mere moments
he warmly shakes my hand
again, and again
***
***
a horse rolling
in the sunny snow,
now, that will be the image
to carry today
for tomorrow
gusts no.9 spring/summer 2009
***
***
frisky as all get out,
her boyfriend smiles
at me-
a knowing smile
I once knew
***
***
asked to arrange
the flowers in a vase
I put them in any which way –
so glad there are some things
which can’t go wrong
***
***
it’s her keys again,
the search now
in its third day…
would that we might find
some of our love lost as well
gusts no.8 fall/winter 2008
***
***
thinking again
I should do everything
just as my wife wants…
these cycles of new snow
becoming old and melting away
***
***
I leave it
unwashed,
her fragile glass
like others
I’ve broken before
***
***
I ask him about his day,
what he did,
if he got enough sleep
and in response
a soulful look and purring
gusts no. 7 spring/summer 2008
***
***
in the sun
a fine sifting of snow
blows off the roof-
betrayed once
she never forgets
***
***
how can one relate
to one season
more than another…
this deep and clear sense of autumn
stretching back to childhood
***
***
across our bed
my wife reminds me again,
that love letter she found,
one I wrote long ago
with someone else in mind
gusts no. 5 spring/summer 2007
***
***
in the park
someone approaches me,
they have found God
and want to tell me
all about it
***
***
in a silent moment
of honesty
I see my children,
the way they protect me
from myself
***
***
it is a small event
at the end of the workday
this can of beer
yet without doubt my life
has become such small events
gusts no.4 fall/winter 2006
***
***
sun on new snow
fills the field
with a certain blindness
unable to see you now
as I did back then
***
***
my daughter’s hand
reaches out to receive
the plate with bagel…
how silently I mouth
‘thank you’ for her
gusts no.3 spring/summer 2006
***
***
lying here, eyes closed
in denial
until I get up for the day
mostly forgetting
that new ceiling crack
***
***
my wife says
I can’t change,
I’m too happy as I am
as soon as the snow is gone
it starts to snow again
***
***
not even 8 a.m. and
already I’m tired
of my little family-
thank goodness for the outside
peace of trees
gusts no.2 fall/winter 2005
***
***
watching my wife
train the puppy
the truth sinks in…
how much I’ve resisted
over all these years
gusts no. 1 spring/summer 2005
tom clausen 