(for Judy and Ellen)


some mornings are flat and hard


the sky's machinery

scratches a boy's name

on the side of a thin cloud


gears and levers humble

the loud cries of birds - finches, we think -

and the softer cries of chamiso

a bit of water plops to a red stone


none of this - we think - has any right

no right at all

to act separately


all the pieces of the morning

should announce their intentions

the sun in particular

should call ahead

then we'd be ready

for the shadow of its great looming crane

and the heartless stutter

of its childish engine

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

My Poems

Home/School Stuff/Spiritual Stuff/Serious Stuff/Stupid Stuff/Rumors/Writing/
Chronic Relations/Friends