(2013)
a poem written after a difficult day.
An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos
My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last
The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,
Remember the night we took your mother’s car and drove over the skyway bridge? The moon was a bright light to show the way.
Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay
Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up
White heron skidding the blue, grey water, of the bay. How free and easy you make it look,
Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.
Standing at a crossroad Between this life And the next, Heart in hand I knock on that
Today, I wish the pain to go, the fatigue that I fight so. This process of aging is unkind and yet, the law of nature is a fast lane of change.
Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.
Old friends walking on the beach, the waves bring in, memories, of carefree days;
Memories of my childhood Visit more and more Each day, As ghosts of past relatives Cast their shadows,
In the rustle of leaves the wind plays a tune, the change of season is on the horizon. It asks permission
Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.