The foghorn warning cries

I know the weather before I open my eyes

water drips under the cypress trees

wetting the ground where I walk on my knees.

Red Door on the Right

I'll come calling
red-wing in flight
whistling freedom
lonely as night.
The silhouette of a ghost is there
lift my feet and dance on air.

I'll come calling
at the red door on the right
lean into the furnace
ward off the night.
I left my boots on the cobbler's stair
this sole of mine to be repaired.

I'll come calling
coyote in the night
laughing, howling,
chance that I might bite.
Don't move fast in the brown-eyed stare
I might still run if I get scared.

I'll come calling
red door on the right
lean in to the furnace
close my eyes.