River Rocks/ haiku

Cares of the mind like

Rush of water over stone

Smoothed by time passing.

May Day

Making little
paper flowers
with my son
when he was five,
to hang on
Grandma’s door,
celebrate the day,
a rite of spring.

So I stayed behind
the tree and watched
his little red head bob
as he climbed the steps,
hung the flowers,
rang the bell and ran
to hide behind
the tree with me,
watch his grandma’s
face fill with delight,
as mine does,
remembering,
his little face beam
like a spring flower.

My Brave Warrior Woman......For Kelly

I so admire
your tenacity,
ability to forge
ahead despite
the obstacle.

One year ago,
mired in chaos,
you struck out.
Marched ahead,
fearless toward
a dream, fashioned
for yourself and
the little ones.
I love to see
You dancing.

Aberration

At Point Reyes today, I watched

snow fall to the gray green sea,
,
whitecaps swept the cragged outcroppings.

Two boys in striped caps ran along the

sandy shore, laughing, heads back,

tongues out, to catch the odd windfall.

A black dog with curly ears loped ahead,

barked, flushed a flock of sandpipers

into the strange thick sky.

Eulogy

Our bones lie
Tossed by tides

With those
Of Leviathan
Who did

Sing a song
We would not hear

Of a dawn
We would not see

Heart of the Forest/ For Dani and Nick

A place apart, a moment,
To contemplate the joy
Of coming together.

A mountain wood
Holds a secret.
A gentle glade as
Forest and river join,
A private place.
Sun’s rays steal through
Velvet shadowed boughs.
Lavender mist rises from
The rushing river below,
Catches tiny rainbows
In a spider’s woven web.
So rare a silence,
Thick enough to hear,
One’s own heartbeat.

Dear Kay, I am One

Of unknown multitudes,
Who, regardless
Use you as a muse.
Raised to be decorous
In social interaction
Accost you shamelessly,
Audaciously thrust
Pitiful poetry into
A gentle unwary hand,
Unapologetic in excited
Admiration, allow me
A moment of contrition..

Berkshire Symphony

Schubert plays lightly as
morning sun slowly lifts
fog from rolling heights.
Trees donned in autumn coats
of scarlet, orange, russet
and brighter red buttons of sumac.
A color crescendo underlain
with grey sheets of chiseled granite.
I remember first laying eyes
on this beautiful place, when
wrapped in early fall foliage.
A logging truck rolls by, loaded
with sad, shorn trunks, I see the
bottoms, riven rings of time
passed in brutal evidence.

The Heirloom

I carry her now
As she carried me.
The weight I feel
No one can see, like
The grandfather clock
Passed to the next
Generation to keep
Innards wound,
Heart of it ticking.
A gleam of wood
Stands straight
Against the wall,
So well preserved.
She smoothes it
As she hobbles by,
One gnarled walnut
Hand upon the ivory
Handle of her cane.

Chasing Childhood

The call of a locust
In late summer,
Lazy days of freedom
Begin to pall,
Lay in the drying grass
Scratchy on my legs,
Heat of sun on my back,
Watch butterflies dance
In twos and threes
Over a field
Shot with wildflowers.
Sweet smell of
Indian Paintbrush,
Softness of bristles
Tickle my nose.
The threat of a bee
Lured by the sweetness
Brings a moment of alert
To the easy, floating
Bubble of my being.

Late June Conversation

Black raspberries ready,
for dessert tonight, a cobbler.
At the tip top of the pear tree
Cardinal couple commiserate
on scarcity of bugs, little ones
flown the nest and coming rain.
Fireworks at the lake this weekend
shall we go and take a blanket?
A dance at the concert
in Municipal Park to the music
of a visiting polka band? You
can sport the vest I made, I’ll
wear the red sundress you like.
We’ll dream by the watch fire
of local soldiers who came home
to their families safe and sound.

Dreaming Still

I walk through green
After days of rain,
Cross a small bridge
Over a little creek
With glints of gold sun
On rocks of brown moss.
I am nine, behind
The farm house where
We lived beside the creek.
I’d squat, small butt hung
Behind my folded legs,
Bare feet set in the cool clear
Water, watching for a tell tale
Flicker of antennae or pincer.
I’d grab the sectioned middle
Of the crayfish between
Thumb and forefinger, slip
Him in the mayo jar to sell
To the city men for fish bait.
Oh, the dreams I dreamed
In this sun dappled glade
Below the waving trees,
Of faraway places out of
Books or perhaps, a prince,
With eyes the color of
Sunlight on a country creek,
To walk alongside.

Remember Our Garden

We made a raised one,
Carefully set chicken wire
Below to keep out
Burrowing borrowers,
Enclosed the upside
With the same stuff.
The couple uphill were
Entertained all summer
Watching woodchucks
Munch the squash,
How they so ingeniously
Found ways around
Our brave barriers.
Then the funny
Little milk carton collars
We placed around
The baby cucumber plants
To keep out cutworms.
Marigolds and saucers
Of beer for the slugs.
It was no use, we share
Their space and so
They shared our bounty.

For Lena

A lady with attitude
And a voice like
Warm smooth chocolate
Caressed each note
Loved the words
Laughed at life
Not always pleasant
Ever worthwhile
Empowered the womanhood
Of so very many who
Walked behind her
Gladly grateful.

Avatar

I did not think that you could ever die

Or I could ever live without you

I see the hawk above me now

Every where I go and know

That you did not really die

And I am really not alone.
　
　

St. Petersburg Zoo

The monkey cackles from the tree tops,
at the crowd waiting below, like in a zoo,
but what a zoo this is without the walls
and free to roam the suburbs of St. Pete,
as he’s done happily for months.
Every now and then, just for him, a show.
Below, Moms and Dads and kids
and closer by the guys and gals with bright
yellow signs on dark blue jackets,
with guns of sleepy shots meant for the
elusive Rhesus in the trees .
(They are the funniest of all,
so full of their own importance).
Every monkey should have
the pleasure of such a zoo.

No Guarantee

No Guarantee

I watched carefully,
Every move he made,
This oafish fiend
Manning the register,
Saw him carelessly toss
A meticulously selected
Bartlett pear in the bag,
Just as he picked up
The can of tomato sauce.
Rabbit quick, I rescued
My treasure, gently placing
It atop the spinach
In the other bag.
How did it happen
That my perfect pear,
Lovely freckled yellow,
Light blush on the hips,
Come home with a cruel
Gash across it’s belly?

A Prayer for Bettina Joseph

Five years old looks eighty in Haiti
A scratch becomes a death sentence.
A budget crunch in the land
Of plenty of milk and honey.
No money for nonessentials
As flights to hospitals,
Only for orphans already paid for.
Have mercy on the souls of those
Not saved by televised concerts,
Texted dollars and PTA cookie drives.

Early Morning Haiku

My fat turtle moon

Canopy of dancing light

Greet the soft blue dawn.

Wisdom of Rain

This morning before dawn

I listened to a conversation

Of the rain that said to me,

No matter what you people do

In what ever name you know me by,

How ever many die in that name,

The sound of rain falling

From this laurel tree will not change.