Legacy

Closing my eyes I try to see
visions painted on the backs
of my apricot eyelids
some hoped for image
of what life will be
in twenty
thirty
fifty years, if we're lucky
you with wavy white hair
me silently looking out
over the isle Yeats loved
nothing more to prove
nothing more to say
with my books on shelves
and verses in hearts
young dreamers dreaming
of growing into their wrinkles
sitting in this very chair
crying as I cried
over Alcott's desk
or with palm pressed
upon Frost's kitchen table
hoping somehow inspiration
will seep through like osmosis
words soaking into cells
wisdom circling round
building layer upon layer
like a great spiralled shell
let's make our house in it
just two side-stepping crabs
leaving trails in the sand
under the linnet's wings
beating out chords of grace
legacy of purple waters
washing over quiet shores
and a snowy wood
now warm, now green

Senses on a Saturday

See the white rose and her sisters
stand straight as arrows
aimed at the golden sun
proving that not all things
in this world are broken

Smell the willow as it weeps
warm earthen incense
emanates from peeling bark
fragrant leaves fanned by a breeze
beneath the heavy heat of the day

Hear the sleeping spaniel's breath
rising labored but steady
a rattle of resilience
beating back age and illness
with each defiant thump of his tail

Feel the stained glass window
diffusing soft colored light
through hard dimpled surfaces
and cold twisted iron
beauty born of imperfection

Taste the salt of gratitude
on cheeks wet with joy
notice how the bitter flavor
fades with time
it all seems so sweet now

The Real

Morning moon casts
a sliver of silver light
upon shining stone pavers
drenched by some unheard
nocturnal downpour

Trees etched black
against the quickening sky
know nothing of the dream
that left the dark night
shrouded in a miasma of fear

And the bright morning star
caught in a corridor
between continents of clouds
winks knowingly
this is the real

This waking sun
This cool wet grass
This red-winged blackbird
heralding the new day
with an exuberant shout!

The heart of the matter

Here is the heart of the matter

each matter has a heart

just as the clover

has three

 and the body

holds one

so the stone, the earth, the tree

simply follow the veins

of leaf and quill

and soft smooth gold 

branching through granite

and you will see

there is nothing so solid

so hardened

that it does not have

a center

you need only search
for the cracks

they will always show the way

to the heart of the heart of the matter

Dog Walk

The long brown basset
trots along the uneven stone
as if it were smooth marble
aided by a comically low
center of gravity
and stabilizing ear flaps
completely unaware
that his woolen-capped owner
bent and hobbling
has given up the chase
released the leash
to concentrate on navigating
the tricky terrain
the old boy stops
and looks back to his old man
woofing a reminder of all
the adventures the two have shared
until the leash is taken up again
and at a much slower pace
they round the bend together

Sunrise Shimmy

It is agonizing ecstasy
waiting for the sun to rise
she likes to take her time
that celestial burlesque girl
coy and playful
teasing with a flush
followed by a blush
first the arched eyebrow
of a pale golden cloud
next a soft peach shoulder
shimmies across the stage
before the red hot blaze
of uninhibited beauty
is met by the leafy applause
of lovestruck sycamores
and the cat calls of crows
until the whole of nature
is bathed in the breathless wonder
of the soft supple morning light

Skipping Stones

Let the stones thrown
into the lake of your life
skip across the water
with ever diminishing impact
until they are swallowed
into the stillness of the center

Let the ripples collide as they must
until the wake of impact
settles into glassy calm
and the intended violence
is absorbed by a vast tranquillity
the rock softened by the deep

like carbonation

The young Hasidic girls
stand on the school steps
dressed in matching uniforms
a sea of navy blue cotton sweaters
with starched white collars peeking out
and severe skirts with hemlines
halfway between the ankle and the knee
each head thick with rich brown hair
pulled into perfect ponytails
the uniformity troubled only
by the backpacks they wear:
neon green leopard print
pastel rainbow striped
red and black lady bug bags
wild colorful and utterly unique
self-expression like carbonation
bubbles to the surface
with just a twist of the lid

Nature is a soapy sponge

Nature is a soapy sponge
squeeze the water
let it wash away
the chalk stains of thought
and the choking dust of worry
until the board is blank -
clear and clean and ready
for the next lesson