Dee LeRoy
turned from the road
toward a creek

running cold yet unfrozen
near trees beyond the house.

I circled him, faced him
grinned at his quartz pebble smile.

Though he could not tip his hat
I knew he wanted to.

“Watch your back,” I said
though I saw he had no ears.

The carrot nose twitched slightly
as if he chuckled at my wit.

Only the eyes betrayed
more somber meditation

their marbled glass
reflecting sky-trees-me

all like the creek in our flowing.

There I thought I saw
the snowman’s heart.

I recalled how in summer
I contemplate the soil

all it produces, all it reclaims.

“Water to water,” I whispered
touching the snowman’s face

lifting my hand quickly
as a drop began down his cheek.

Photo by Nathan Wolfe on Unsplash

september surprises


Dee LeRoy
Each year the tilt toward fall

Earth’s night turning from its Milky Way
toward dimmer worlds

sapphire sky pale to dark
pooling over hills

tinting aster and ironweed
the last morning glory whose indigo petals
open around a star.

A tree that looks green drops a yellow leaf
and afternoon’s blue deepens around it

as if what is lost remains close
to cushion descent.

One by one the days shorten.

Photo by Kai Pilger on Unsplash




Dee LeRoy
You kick it
off the porch
but it returns
soon enough
whiskers twitching
all the more eager
for admission.
So you let it in
name it
nurture it
learn to live
with the purring of it
heavy and warm
in your lap
its hooked claws
kneading your heart
with affection.

Photo by Emily Fletke on Unsplash