Poem number one

I composed this riding home one evening.

The freshening air
must be stirring the young ones from their stupor
There’s a lot of bad driving
in small cars
[oh crap]
in cars

In the clear dark sky there is
a bit more than
1/2 lune/moon
Golden.

Bobbing higher and lower
further and closer
but sinking

Oh look
On the shared-use path along
the stretch of road
where the bike lane vanishes

There’s the darkly-clothed man with
the dark dog and
the dark extensible lead.
He is there most times I pass.

Does his dog have
a delicate urinary or
solid-waste
system

Or does he simply spend his time
in wait
hoping a cyclist does not see
him or
the dog or
the dark filament
strung across the way
in time

I am home
Goodnight moon

Oh hello
Cassiopeia

Steam cools on my glasses
The wisteria
now only leaves and stem
look a bit dessicated

I could probably use an editor.  If only to prevent there being a Poem number two.