I have no problem moving over,
And letting the
Younginahurry people race past me.
Let them dash off to their
Despite their velocity,
They will never catch up to me.
I’m not in the slow lane or the fast lane,
But the now lane.
Traveling at the speed of zen.
Let them speed past me in the
And I’m not talking about the highway.
On The Ridge
I raced after my life for a long time, trying to reach it, without realizing I was in it.
Barn At Sunrise
I have vague recollections of the transitory whats and wheres I thought I was trying to get to.
Thistle Down Shower
Alas, I’m glad I didn’t make it.
This destiny, this destination, this here and now is more spectacular than ever I could have dreamed,
and has come to me in ways I never would have imagined.
The winds of July will find me,
For we have places to be.
She rustles leaves outside my window
‘Til I wake to the morning glow.
She calls for me to follow,
For we have places to go.
She brings with her the smell of rain,
And flowers sweet, and breath of life.
She tags along with thunderstorms,
Rides along their anvil tops.
She wraps herself around me,
“Hurry!” she calls, “Before it stops!”
She sways the growing sunflower
And fans the cottonwoods, tall and green.
Puffs skyward the dandelion seed
And waves the blackberry, bended low.
Then snows a storm of cottonwood down
Tossed gaily to and fro.
Whilst bumblebee and butterfly
Do not prefer to share the sky
There’s little we can do or say
When the summer wind flies our way.
She beckons me to join them, too,
For we have so much to do.
There are windsocks and weathervanes,
Sails of ships that she must fill.
She casts about the smell of campfires,
The plaintive call of the Whip-poor-will.
There are kites at beaches to be held aloft,
Summer rain to usher in, gentle and soft.
Into the mild evening she accompanies me
For we have so much yet to hear and see.
Nighttime clouds that pass the moon.
At the lake she carries the sound of the loon.
Not far from home, a pungent smell
Of the skunk who loves the wind as well.
As quiet night sinks dark and deep
The rustling leaves call me to sleep.
On silent wings she carries the owl
And brings to me the coyote howl.
Outside my window she tells again,
Of all the places we have been.
Why Can’t People
Why can’t people just be people,
And leave each other alone?
Then every child would have a home
In the sunshine.
Why can’t all my brothers and sisters
Reach out a helping hand?
Why can’t they try to understand
‘Cause we’re running out of time.
(People, we are running out of time.)
Why can’t people just be good neighbors,
Learn how to get along?
We gotta teach a newborn bird to fly.
All by itself, we gotta teach it how to fly.
If we could only realize
We’re all just God’s children anyway,
Maybe he won’t seem so far away.
Rest in peace, Charles Edward Daniels, 1936-2020
He leaves wife Hazel, and son Charlie Daniels, Jr.
Heaven’s chorus now enjoys another voice.
“‘Cause we are running out of time.”
Wild Tiger Lilies
It seems as though we’ve just watched
The last of the snow fade.
Now we cut the growing grass
Blade by blade.
We keep watch for hummingbirds
And the peony’s blooms.
We can open our windows (at least in the day),
In our sunny summer rooms.
Summer Solstice brings promise,
Today the day is long.
We turn to see the rose’s bloom…
And June is gone.
Doone The Cat
Just keep feeding the cat.
Sometimes our lives feel like whirlwinds.
Sometimes we question our very existence.
It can be mind-boggling.
Meanwhile, we must keep feeding the cat.
It is a Known Good.
Duty and regimen.
All things must pass.
Some days it’s all we have.
Until things settle.
Until we sort things out.
Until things become clearer.
In the meantime, keep feeding the cat.
A Known Good for the cat, too.
Unsure just why
But here am I
Awake and alive.
Breathe and step
And step again.
To where? Ahead.
Beyond where I have been.
Look and see.
What is there and
What is not.
Past, future, time forgot.
A back to break,
An iron will,
Dreams to forsake.
Sun and rain
Clouds to love.
Feed the machine
Because we must,
Over and again
Until I am dust.
A sparrow lights
To share my bread.
What’s mine is yours
Until I am dead.
A fleeting glimpse,
A parting glance?
For who knows how long
We shall dance?
Sun is setting,
Yet light persists
In hallowed halls.
Rest and sleep.
To dreams awake.
A dream of dreaming
For its own sake.
The day dawns,
Wipe sleep from eyes.
And who knows why,
It was not the governments of the world that tore down the Berlin Wall.
It was not soldiers in uniforms, nor officials or dignitaries.
The Wall was brought down by ordinary people. Millhands and plumbers and taxi drivers and waitresses.
People who would no longer tolerate the isolation and separatism practiced by their native countries.
The Earth is our homeland.
We are one people.
Ellie and the Pinata
My Syrian Children
The faces of “Refugees”
My Sisters, circa 1970
What will you dream?
Ryan & me
Little Bit on the Cape
My Dad, Mom, sister & me. Circa 1966.
Training wheels off.
Pop Pop, Nana, my sister, and me. Circa 1970.