We laugh.You makecrooked smilesat nine weeksgive or takea day.We meet the morning,enter a flowfamiliarto the newlyborn,in a newtimemeanderfromsleep to sleep,wakefulawakenings.Rest isfuel forthe milestonesyoureach right beforeour eyes:You smileat my smile.We aremirrorspassing in time.Maybe I growyounger asyou grow up.Take my finger.Lead on, babychild,I’m alongfor the ride.Teach meto lovethe shadows of late afternoonleaves again,light beamson a crackedwall, the … Continue reading Delight
Ground
Each foray nowa little wonderThe brush wepiled last fallheretherea rustlingthen rushrabbit runsto the bank& awayand I no longerafraidof eyes watchingfrom underthe heap offallen ashsit& the log singsa symphonyof beetlesthe sound mayapples makepushing up fromwet earthall breathsquish & gurglegentling melisten
Why I Am
Remember the spooky French Horn theme in Sergei Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf (Op. 67, a “symphonic tale for children”)? The sound of the wolf brought tears to my eyes and so of coursea few years later, I asked to play the horn. “Musician!”, the grown ups proclaimed, and so I was, finding myself lost … Continue reading Why I Am
Sweet Woodruff
Under leaves mulched many inches thickI uncover stepping stones pressed withImprints of our children’s hands, their seaglassand shells foraged on the shores of greatlakes and warm oceans, wherewe crouched and gathered inbaskets long ago when we werelimber and sun-browned, and as yet unbothered by frailtiesto come. Their little hands bringback to life springtimes past, alongwith … Continue reading Sweet Woodruff
On The Other Hand
I question the form of my blooming in a slow growth season. It’s not that I don’t seek a little running sap in life anymore, change, another miracle of 3-day resurrection, re-planting in the soil of my circumstances. It’s not that I’m anywhere near worn & worried to the bone, quite the opposite, in fact. … Continue reading On The Other Hand
Early Morning Poems 