Common Sense   1. There's a woodpecker black, white on a thin trunk pecking - of course - for bugs I suppose, and bright damp bits of pulp dropping onto the shell of a large black beetle in the weeds.   2. These tiny fliers have circles to do. They swing around the lightbulb like crazy pinwheels and drop dead burnt and dumb.   3. One cricket's clear tone creeps out tonight from a rocky field to a room with a light - blesses the pens and books the pictures on the wall the black plastic ticking clock.

All poems by Br. Tom Murphy, O. Carm.

My Poems