Apr 20 2017

field of dreams

i live
in the land
of farms

people from
cities
don’t understand
what that
means
(i learned this
from a former
city dweller)

in my world
there is

space

.

.

.

wide field

deep sky

lone tree
standing tall
to guard
corn
wheat
or soy

in the
evening
driving
home

a lone car
on the road
in the
distance

becomes
beacon
for a
journey
never
traveled

.

.

.


Apr 19 2017

eulogy

i spent a year
listening

to grief and
revelation

hope and
degradation

i lost my voice
in the sound
of life
moving on

or death
pounding hooves
down fresh
black pavement

i’m here
now
on the
other side
of something

listening

again

to storm
and blossom

holding stories
in a heart

scarred from
blade

.

.

.


Apr 18 2017

totem

the face of truth
is marked
by shadow

you and i
think
we know better

but symbol
is all
that’s
necessary
in a world
molded by
glyph

we’re sure
we invented
shorthand
clever acronym
monument

but

we’re going
backward
in a world
losing time

carving lives
from bits
and pixels
and love
from empty
promises

filtered
imagination

so little
left

to recognize

.

.

.


Apr 17 2017

blue on blue

suddenly
there is all this color
all this light
shining green through
blue glass
and
it seems absurd
to think winter
equals hibernation
but i awaken
and there it is
a new year
that did not exist
yesterday

.

.

.

 


Apr 16 2017

blur

the sun is shining
and the windows are open
and i am up early
making pierogies

i think about tradition
and the millions of women
who have stood at a sink
or a stove or a counter
smiling and singing
in a warm ray of sunshine
as they filled small houses
with smells of love

i am crying
(all these onions)
and i don’t need
to do all this work
this chopping
this repetitive
standing-up
oh-my-back labor

we could have had
scalloped or mashed
or baked, but

the sun is shining
and the windows are open
and i am up early
making pierogies

feeling blessed

and the voices
of those women
(those ghosts)
who came before me
are singing right along
in a harmony
of light

.

.

.

 


Apr 15 2017

virtual reality

the world we sit in
and the world we live in
have become
two different things

by now
fifteen minutes
is the measure
of antipathy
and data
the construct
of worth

observation
has replaced
interaction

i see you
you see me

we do not touch

i know one thing
about you

you know
three things
about me

it all adds up

we can’t
catch up

.

.

.


Apr 14 2017

seasoning

a hatchmark of trees
filters lavender sky

the blue heron swings right
just overhead
flying over a house
marking time and
strong weather

the storms have filled
the swamp again

the grass goes green

a single daffodil
blooms from a nest
of brown leaves

nothing and everything
beginning

.

.

.


Apr 13 2017

microcosm

busy
and the days grab me away
from the paying attention
to that color, that lilt,
that perfect light

one breath

one moment

take it in

notice

this is what matters

this one fleeting second
of pure, silent beauty

remember

.

.

.


Apr 12 2017

the geese are on the move

and i am still right here

these are the words
that ring through my head
on a hamster-wheel day
when running in place
feels just as exhausting
as covering distance
and all i really
want to do
is fly

.

.

.


Apr 11 2017

soldiering on and
other maladies

in the garden there is a tree that leans
oh so far to the right
(from where i sit)
and i smile at the audacity
of this refusal to break
this will to survive
this pugnacious affront
to convention

i write poems about age
(or simply think them)
understanding that crooked
is a different kind of tenacity
and the temerity of youth
is just blossom

mostly i remember
the silence
of a morning
meant for forgiveness
and the stars on that night
we walked to saturn

the birds eat berries
left long on winter branches
gone sweet with the yearning
to be free

.

.

.