Summer Run

Summer Run

Early June, and somewhere the first
of the silver salmon
have returned from the sea.

The moon tugs the tide ashore,

What lies ahead? Rivers, deep riffles
and osprey, close to the mind.
A school struck by waves.

They exist as they are, I exist
as I am-content, and that is
enough.

Impact

Impact

Young and drunk
I didn’t have time to care.
I wanted to play.

When Norman the neighbor
boy was killed by Walt,
another neighbor boy

accidentally while hunting
rabbits at The Goat Lady’s
place in the sand hills,

I shrugged it off and
never thought about
it again until now-

sixty years later,
waking from my dream
in a cold sweat.

A Letter After the Rain

A Letter After the Rain


I have tried many times
To tell you some things
and have failed:

How
life can be like a child-simple
and uncomplicated.

How
with its wounds, it
scales mountain after mountain
on slick ice.

How
the warm evening, gray
like a breeze, has persuaded
our old tired bodies
to protect each other.

How
when we try to believe everything
the believing muscles
of our minds soon tire,

and make us weak and we
don't believe the simplest
of truths then.
Simplicity is our survival.

I made coffee this morning,
and it rained last night. Today
along the palm-lined street
a southwest roadrunner-
wet-feathered
but intent on its prey
scurried along the asphalt
like a frantic tourist
in a frenzy
without a road map.

What Am I Worth? You Ask

What Am I Worth? You Ask

You are as in the soil a brilliant gem
At twilight, when all the rays descend
Upon the earth, a rainbow blend
Of golden colors, a seamless hem

Hidden beneath a haze of anthracite
Just below the surface, dull bright,
Your luster longing to be mined,
Released from earthly ties that bind,

Unearthed, polished to a high patina,
Displayed proudly in God's arena
Basking under earth's brightest star-
A precious stone without a mar

Your value well beyond some measure,
A best kept secret, a hidden treasure

Grandma's Photography

Grandma’s Photography

You see yourself in the viewfinder
as you were half a century ago.
The ties that bind you and bind her
are ties of bloodline and love that glow.

A small clone of you this tiny girl.
Her radiant smile, red hair, wavy curl-
the silly grin upon her face,
her beauty that nothing can replace.

You are her, she is you, but merely
through the camera’s focused eye
can you capture your lives clearly-
and look upon her with a sigh

and say “Smile for the birdie,
Ah! My darling, you’re so pretty!”

El Puerco, the Mexican Flu

El Puerco, the Mexican flu

It arrived late in the afternoon
On the porch with the evening news
Without fanfare or a warning tune
Silently, on tiptoe in ballet shoes

a tragic villain, plotting chaos
In the corridors of useless dross
Floating into space an undetected
Virus soon to be resurrected

Assaulted my large intestine
Leaving me prostrate and very ill
The doctor came, prescribed a pill
Left me ravaged without question

Pallid, washed out, an old rag
I'm still alive, but I'll not brag.

The Question: To Tell or Not To Tell

The Question: To Tell or Not To Tell?

Hidden in the crevices
often clichéd as skeletons
In the closet, our dark

secrets, cling like parasites,
chewing away at the fabric
of our freedom. The world

is too much against us. Grief,
like a stealthy ninja
waits inside us for a door

to open, for a hand to release
the caged bird of suppression,
for a “Let freedom ring” moment.

Confession like porous petrified
wood yields only to moments
of sadness, or madness.

Runaway Bride

Runaway Bride

Her lie waits within her for a chance to escape
Her lie is impatient as a rabid bat.
Her lie is a rabbit pulled from a hat.
Her lie is that innocent, sweet child
Building sandcastles on the Jersey
Seashore. In her younger years
She would dance and sing. She was virtuous.
She was kind of “naïve,” they all said.
It was June, a time for brides and weddings.
She’s been out of my thoughts for a long time.
Lies take everything and leave us naked.