Sunday Morning

I linger over my cereal,

Newsprint on my fingers, printer’s ink

From photo faces of skin and bone,

Grey children on our Times’ front page

That I used to wrap the garbage in;

At the sink I wash my bowl and hands

And leave for church.

Daniel E. Wilcox

Published in The Other Side Magazine
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haiku

trembled, jittering
feather caught to the dust splat
on the Chevy windshield
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horse trailer rattles
by curved eucalyptus leaves
that skit in the gutter

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rain water on oil
red and blue swirls on blacktop--
a peacock's feather

Daniel E. Wilcox
Published in The Stylus
Spring 2007

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warped fence boards in sand
lean askew toward green windbreak --
old gnarled cypress
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lines, no white shirts but
birds black in a row clothes-pinned
to the telephone wires

Daniel E. Wilcox
Published in Idlewheel
Fall 2007