by Jack Conway  

Love Calls of Foxes

Last night I heard the gray fox howl,
along the old stone wall,
three yips and then a scream,
ungodly sounds,
its ritual mating call.
Love calls of foxes,
reminds us
that love is out there, somewhere,
now, for everyone,
willing to cry long and loud enough.

The Library of Love

On the fiction shelves,
in the library of love,
there are stories of
damsels in distress
and knights in shining armor
who rescue them.
Last night,
while you were sleeping,
I turned on the back-porch light.
Even the dragons are out of breath.


“The happiest man is he who learns from nature the lesson of worship.” 
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Did you ever notice,
how the butterfly
doesn’t give a shit
about you?
Can’t you see that, man?

Thin Ice

Ice is nice
For chilling drinks
And for soothing wounds.
But I surmise
It isn’t wise
To skate on it
In June.

About the Ayuthor:

Jack Conway

Jack Conway’s poems have appeared in Poetry, The Antioch Review, The Hiram Poetry Review, The Norton Book of Light Verse and other poetry journals and anthologies. His book, Outside Providence: Selected Poems, was published in 2016. He is also the author of a dozen nonfiction books. He teaches English at a community college in Massachusetts.