Heavenly Earth
At 77, he’s feeling,
free to plant
whatever he desires,
free to create a world
he’ll not see mature,
free to be the all-father
of his environment,
free to be the seeds, the mulch,
the water, sun and shade,
even as he knows he’ll miss
the ultimate harvest,
still pruning and weeding,
still talking to his seedlings,
thinking of Saint Francis, who,
when asked what he might do
if he knew it was his last day of life, said
he’d finish raking the garden.
Breakfast
Sitting quietly in the living room,
sipping my morning coffee,
deciding between poetry and
the Times crossword.
Suddenly a loud thump,
from the kitchen,
all too familiar.
It can only mean one thing:
a broken window or
a broken neck.
A quick dash and glance,
no shattered glass.
A slanted peek at the patio,
no broken bird.
No birds at the feeder,
and none on the fence
Well, one, a cooper’s hawk,
a big one, smiling that smile
through its eyes.
Missed that one,
it seems to say.
Next time.
Oh, and thanks for the feeders,
it blinks.
I’m always hungry.
Seaside Scribblings
I write, inspired by the writing of others,
by Veterans, my sisters and brothers,
by the natural world in constant motion,
by pier-bound days at the steel-blue ocean,
by the sun and the moon,
their setting and rising,
their own songs, their tunes,
sometimes surprising.
Standing at a dock, I have a notion,
my monkey mind bursts unable to cease.
Even if I am but a drop in the ocean,
it is still my privilege to wage peace.
Never knowing what tomorrow will bring,
I will still write about it, in my own voice,
allow my heart and soul, my spirit to sing,
reminded always there’s no other choice.
Shore Lines
Water has always calmed me,
extending further,
deeper than I could see.
I have often awakened,
here, near the border with Mexico,
with nowhere to go,
feeling the onshore flow,
okay with the grayness,
knowing the sun would bake it off,
create a gentle, wispy sky,
here near my home,
in the sweet by and by.
Still inspired, but
less calmed now,
remembering the beaches of sand,
covered by the rising seas,
climate changing the shape of the land.
I stand and think,
oh to be a child at the ocean,
barefoot, joy-filled,
sand-covered, smelling the salt,
nostalgic to a fault.
I close my eyes, realize
I am just a drop in
the sea of life.
Then I recall
I am also a part of the Infinite.
Then I remember to laugh.
Role Models
In air, through water,
and, of course, on land,
life’s joy is ever theirs
to take in, to command.
May they live with happiness,
never fears nor tears,
appreciative of their achievements
through thirty-six years.
May their success continue
for a million more days,
as it’s certainly their due
in so many ways.
May they be the ideal,
it’s definitely within their might,
keep on keeping it real,
continue shining their light.
