Rhyming Poems

A guest reached the party at nine, with reasons both lengthy and fine; the cake had been cleared,

My daughter brings light to the day, then moves all the candles away; she says, “Keep the cake,

Praise the cracking open of the seed, the blind ambition of the buried root, the robin's first bewildered, breathless creed

I wished for a year without fuss, with good food and one punctual bus; the candles burned low,

Birches bend their bright backs. Cedars click and call. Dry grasses drag their green sleeves

Even now, when nothing seems to hold, Nothing keeps the dark from pressing close— Dawn is just a rumor, barely told,

My daughter said cake was too plain, so ordered both tart and champagne; when asked which to share,

The earth is trying something underneath— you feel it in the softness of the ground, a stirring, like a sleeper holding breath

The house at three a.m. becomes a throat that hums with all the things we didn't say, and I lie still as someone in a boat

A baker made layers sky-high, with frosting that leaned to one side; we carried it through,

A hat with a glittering crown kept slipping repeatedly down; you wore it with pride,

A friend rose to speak with great flair, then found every mind had gone bare; he lifted his glass,