Strawberries

Sweet dark red fruit,
The slightest touch
Brought a river of juice
From the fragile cell wall

Ahh, but they have been
Improved.
The new strawberry
Bright red and gigantic,
This California marvel
Even two weeks
After picking.
Like a fifteen year old
Swimsuit model
Beautiful, perfectly shaped
This ersatz specimen
Sits atop the biscuit
Like bloodless stone.

I miss the fruit that
Stained my fingers
Gave up juice unending,
Forced me to tend to them
Immediately, lest they
Be taken by mold,
Soaked the biscuits
And still enough to
Slurp from the bowl,
Swirled with
Luscious whipped cream.

Magic

If the innate sense
Of rhythm does exist

Then the still mind
Will find the path to

The poetry

The dance

The lifted heart

Tribute To 44

My son, my sun
I celebrate your ability

To get twenty five hours
From every day

Turn strangers into friends

And laugh the clouds away

A priceless gift
The light that is you

Fact of Life

It's not just men
That do it
Women do it too
Going for the package
Not thinking
Things through

Same is true
For all life forms
From the human
To the hen

Who struts the best
Is loved the best
Ask the local rooster

A Moment

I walked
A wooded lane
Bathed in
Dappled light
A bird flew
Into my hand
I held it gently
Felt the wild
Beating heart
Against my palm
The soft feathers
Over the small
Warm body
Admired the deep
Black of his eye
Then the tiniest
Scratch on my skin
As he sprang
Into flight