poems in the style of A. R. Ammons

Rainstorm

Rain was
playful
this morning:

wind coaxed
water
into slurping

mudholes: into
down
and

around,
the squirrel
shivering

unconcernedly
jumps
across mud


Garage Sweep

Like an
anxious, busy child
I clean

out the garage
and move:
everything,

both hands re-arranging
and sorting
to me, means:

lately I
am no lazier —
loved; but

God is
arranging
for my future.