the great eternal

having witnessed my sixth decade of spring

i turn my attention to that which hides until the time

of best opportunity, a circadian rhythm, a vibration

when all support and underpinnings are in concert

with arrival.


Oh, Timorous Sun

Beginning with the first thunderstorm of spring, you hid out behind raging clouds

Roiling with wet strategies for a sullen morning.

Flashes of electrons streaking earthward; rolling echos of chaos across the bay

Caused the bed covers to migrate overhead and stifle the slumber interruption.

Tragically, the spring dawn cast little shadow on silky pavements

And the alarm refused to bleat “good day”.

Oh, timorous sun, come shine. Let your rays connect with eyes

Cast down wishing for a  triumphant flag of victory over bristling buds.

Appear majestically as you take over the anxious landscape

And bear down upon the waiting, damp blades of new grass.

Freshen the dark shades of muted colors and angle the shafts

Upon the bleak staring windows of winter past.

Oh, timorous sun, celebrate. Beam the goodness of your core

So that others may take up their work renewed.

Wrestling with Love

We argued over the vacation, a new destination or the camp in Maine

I wanted someplace warm, different and sandy; you wanted the hammock

We circled our wagons and laid siege to winning but

I settled.

I wanted bright colors; you selected off-white

The living room resembled a physician’s waiting room, comfortable for you

I wondered why the magazine selections were so sparse

And the windows with blinds so naked without curtains.

Our time together felt like a long cord attached to a car bumper

Going in the opposite direction

We just couldn’t agree; I settled

Red Capes and Life

I heard the song years ago but didn’t hear the words

Until last night when I almost cried.

Heroes aren’t all that special

Because they walk upon the earth.

He’s just a man making it safe for all to sleep

While looking deep inside of him to know how to feel,

Nothing special, in fact funny with a red sheet

Wrapped around his imposing stance.

Can you stand tall and sense that life isn’t easy

Even though you’re there to catch the fall and save

Those who believe that flying is special

When you know it’s just what is inside of you.

(With gratefulness to Five For Fighting – Superman)


Remorse is an acquired feeling only cultivated by years

The young have no idea that time will one day grab their untarnished souls and twist hard

Enough to cause a momentary pause, a possible reflection, or tears.

Squeezing the moment like a fresh lemon for today’s sangria served up cold, tasty and tweaked.

Judging from the span of years between the act and remorse,

Time piles high the feeling that once was a spurious twinge of tart, unswallowed seeds

And germinates a forest of cooled summer days.

To undo, impossible. To forget, improbable. To forgive, immense.

And I didn’t care

I was late but called the coffee shop to pass the message along (a borrowed cell) and she waited,

coffee and smart phone in hand, and smiled when I dashed in so apologetic.

How was the trip? Tell me all about your days, I demanded.

She smiled and said she felt so all alone in the garden paradise filled with people.

It’s not how she planned it. Like life  so very often isn’t how we planned it.

Her eyes teared up, a sigh detached,

she said,

“And I didn’t care”.

the chill of an absent spring

my green winter jacket zipped tight against the March-like wind

didn’t warm my thoughts of an absent spring pierced

by whipped sand airborne against my face.

i look furtively for crocuses and daffodils,

bracing stems with a lust for sun and found them closed against the day.

how does my spirit brave the chill time before the warmth of an invincible summer?