SHORT PANTS

every time I am surprised
by the quick smell of
newly mown grass

or the flash of the mid-morning
sun against my face in
the cool spring air

I am at once yanked back
to days when I ran without
purpose across the lawns of

freedom or climbed the
fence beside the road
to get to the trees or just lay

on my back in the fresh
green and loved
and loved

every time

APRIL 24TH

we are the lucky ones
who have made it through the days of trial
and discontent to celebrate this marriage
as it should be celebrated
in the sweet, quiet murmurings and touchings
that mean so much
and make us a monument to overcoming

42 years have lined our lives
with happiness joy and sorrow
as we struggled against each other
to find a peaceful happy place
where we could both survive

together we have combined our separate ways
and joined our fears of yesterday
and tomorrow

today
we love each other
and
for me
that is more than enough

OUTSIDE ONE MORNING

a pair of grackles on the lawn becomes three
foraging they strut and bob
intention focused solely on need
and survival

while I sit focused only on the writing of
this poem in my mind
giving no immediate thought to basic needs
and I

I can't maintain anything like their level of concentration
and I can't even rise on the morning breeze
and float to the nearby treetops
frustrated I give up and go inside to try to finish

A BRIEF DIALOG WITH MY MOTHER

“you had a problem with that library when you first moved there”
“yes but I got over it”
“it’s better when you can let go of things like that’
“I know”
“things are fine here – no big news I’m afraid”
“well things aren’t much more exciting here”
“if neither of us has any news I guess we can say goodbye”
“okay you go eat breakfast”
“I will thanks for calling you’re a good son”
“and you’re a good mother I love you”
“not always as good as I should’ve been”
“oh you were good enough I love you goodbye”
“and I love you bye”
and outside my window
the birds keep up their chittering and excited chirruping
trying to drag the sun again over the edge of the morning

the wind today
reminds me
that I am going forward
(relatively speaking)
while spinning
circling
rushing
through space
at speeds I can't
even imagine
how important
can where I wind up
be

there is not much activity going on
outside my window

just a slow breeze through the
trees and grass

a very occasional car
floats by

no dog walkers or other
pedestrians

I am left to my random thoughts
day dreams

one hand vacantly stroking
skippy's shoulder

I am barely aware of the breeze coming
through the open window

life is good
life is good

STAYING ON TRACK

Many years ago I began a program of spiritual recovery
My life had not been exemplary
I was frequently inappropriate and wrong headed
for example
I used to believe it was okay to occasionally leave a store without paying for something
to celebrate the path I was now on
I began to wear a cross around my neck
not to be exclusionary
but to show my great love for Jesus
one day
a couple of years into my program
over a lunch hour I went to a computer store with two friends
when we first walked in I saw a sign taped to the wall
it said
“warning – shoplifters will be prosecuted”
I felt an old spark flare up inside me and I thought
“not if you don’t catch me”
while my friends went off after some supplies
I walked over to the book section
soon I found a book that I dearly wanted to have
it was too bulky though to sneak out of the store
inside the back cover I found a companion cd and I thought
“I can at least get this”
I was starting to palm the disk when suddenly
a young boy of 15 or 16 came around the corner
frustrated
I knew I had to wait until he passed
as he approached me
he smiled and said
“gee – I like your cross”
I thanked him
I put the book back
and walked off to find my friends

TEMPERANCE

I used to think that whenever I didn’t feel full
I was hungry

I used to occasionally drink to excess
today I rarely drink

I used to smoke two packs a day
I gave it up years ago

I used to spend too much time in lustfull phantasies
now I practice staying in the moment

I guess that writing poetry is the only vice I have left

CANADIAN GEESE

a great flock of them stands by the pond
spilling out onto the side of the road
a few scouts slowly begin to make their way across the road

I brake to let them cross
they have been here for three days now
what is it I wonder

that causes them to stop here for so long
is it somehow predetermined
or do they spontaneously decide to stop flying and land

and what is it I wonder
that causes me to pause in my journeying south then north again
that tells me where to stop and for how long

or does nothing tell me
and I decide strictly on my own
spontaneously without any predetermination at all

now those few have passed
and I continue on my way
wondering if I shall see them tomorrow

SKIPPY

draped across my lap
head down on one side
tail down on the other
he sleeps
and I
leg rest up
legs extended
place both hands on his warm body
meanwhile
my mind busily scurries from one thought to the next
saying
“surely there is something more important I should be doing”
then my heart asks
“what
right now what could be more important than this”
and my thoughts slow
and I relax in the moment
and slowly breathe in and out
in and out

CONFLUENCE

hope is like the first robin of the year
come dragging another spring behind it
generations of leaves have fallen on this ground
but the same tree still stands
I wake each morning to find you asleep by my side
and hope we still have many seasons left between us
it has been so long since I have not known you
if you leave first
I shall know you till I die
if it is I who goes
I will never know the end of your story
and that will be the saddest thing about my dying
maybe we'll be lucky

IT’S BEEN A WHILE

it’s been a while
my senses have been dulled by my medications
more and more it seems
as I go along
I am a little more remote each day
I’m not sure where this is all leading
but I haven’t written much
moved by the Mary Oliver reading last night
I went out at 6:30 this morning
specifically to see the sun rise
but once I was outside
I realized that my view was blocked by the houses across the way
I know that we are part of the natural world
but we do so many things to cushion ourselves from the rest of it
we block views
we clear forests
we build things
and we pave the world
there is so much smoke and toxic waste
are landfills our destiny
it grew light
and I went back inside to write

THE COYOTE

I saw him hobbling across the open field behind two buildings
a policeman stood behind
a fair distance from away
his rifle in hand
the very rifle I assumed
that had taken away the use of his right rear leg
the policeman aimed for another shot
fired and missed
if he could just make it to the corn field two blocks away
he would probably be safe
the policeman got into his car and took off
no doubt
to go around the block toward the other side of the field
I prayed that he would be too late
watched the coyote struggling on
and realized
that each of us is pursued
not by a policeman with a rifle
but by relentless time
we all know that it will catch us
maybe now before we reach the cornfield
maybe later as we hobble on
struggling toward possible oblivion or possible immortality
the only sure knowledge we have
is that the door will open and that we will have to go through it
the coyote disappeared behind one of the buildings
and I drove on toward home