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.
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.
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.
Our fates entwined, I am carried along her wandering course.
Only the river has changed.
Here, within my canoe, I remain the same.
Now looking out at a different landscape.
“I learned to look more upon the bright side of my condition, and less upon the dark side, and to consider what I enjoyed, rather than what I wanted: and this gave me sometimes such secret comforts, that I cannot express them; and which I take notice of here, to put those discontented people in mind of it, who cannot comfortably enjoy what God has given them, because they see and covet something he has not given them. All our discontents about what we want appeared to me to spring from the want of thankfulness for what we have.”
– Daniel Defoe, Robinson Crusoe
“There is something sacred about stillness. The world has not changed outside our bounds, we just realize peace and tranquility are possible, if we make space for it.”
– Ed Lehming, From Where I Stand
“If your environment is poor, blame yourself. Tell yourself you are not poet enough to call forth its richness.”
– Rainer Maria Rilke
Horas non numero nisi serenas.
“I count only the happy hours.”
Barn at sunrise
I beg your pardon, and I mean just that.
I’m sorry we won’t have time to chat.
I haven’t a moment to spare, you see,
Just now Mother is calling me.
It’s not entirely my fault,
This unavoidable delay.
But you know the world is bigger than me
And overwhelms my day.
It’s not only me, it’s also the birds
‘Cause they’re Tweeting me with their tweeting bird words.
And the trees are waving to catch my eye,
Passing clouds call out “Hello and goodbye.”
Am I to blame for marveling
At this air that smells of snow?
It surrounds me and embraces me,
And follows everywhere I go.
You wouldn’t hold it against a guy
Whose eyes automatically rise to the sky,
For breathing deep and lingering long,
To sing along with Nature’s song.
So hasten, must I,
To truncate this rhyme.
You and I can visit
Some other time.
I stopped my compulsive counting of the geese in the flocks that fly above me,
and instead admired their beauty.
I stopped foretelling the weather in these clouds that pass over me,
and instead enjoyed watching them sail.
I stopped thinking of those places where we don’t meet eye-to-eye,
and instead embraced those where we do.
Color Of Winter
“How can we enact our Devine Comedy without the proverbial Village Idiot?
Who will play The Fool?”
“I will! I will!” I heard myself exclaim without hesitation. I jumped for joy to be working again.
To have a clearly defined roll within this cast of characters that is my life.
This grandiose and grand production.
This particularly ponderous performance.
This perfect play.