100 Short Poems
The Lost Idea
was memorable enough to have made an impression once
but then, perhaps because of life's distractions, was left
unattended to, its promise completely undeveloped
until one day your mind stirs and blindly gropes for it
like the tongue returning to where a tooth once was.
On Long Drive, 2 AM
The predicted winter storm
has begun pouring down its white
which appears to bewitch the deer
standing still on either side of this winding road.
For once, they ignore me as I drive past.
Winter Storm
Even a heavy snowfall
blown nearly horizontal by a strong wind
eventually touches down
hiding the world's colors
under its one white mantle.
Reflection
The journey may be long
with no map or compass,
the route most often unclear.
How much is unlooked for
that arrives with the days of a life
First Lessons
With her on the fire escape
facing away from Wall Street
outside my window in New Haven
I first learned both about kissing
and the heart's confounding curriculum.
First Excuse
Unable all that time to make choices,
it was then not my fault that,
afloat in the wet and warm,
I made no plans for
what was to come.
Archbishop Tutu
Vicar of peace, gone home
after a lifetime of determined effort,
amid the strife and tumult of public life,
to open wider the gates of justice,
help the willing to find their joy.
The City, 4 AM
Footprints ahead in the fresh snow
prove that another walker,
having risen even earlier,
or returning home in the dark,
passed this way alone.
Winter Festival
The city sparkles here with crowds
a two-tier carousel
bespangled fir tree
and all the vendor booths
encircling City Hall.
The Untimely Dead
As if in a modern fairy tale
they were beguiled by liars
and misled by misinformation mayhem
until the plague claimed them
and they died alone.
The Big Man
lives in a grand place
guarded by men with guns,
but who would want to hurt this man
who allows his people to bask - from afar
in the nimbus of his magnificence?
Transitions
As this autumn season ends
frigid air blankets the ground.
Each day is a bridge from chores and toil
back again to the dreams we woke from
and also forward to the new ones we'll make.
Yosemite, September 2019
Ascending a steep trail in the Sierras,
somewhere up ahead,
Yosemite Falls
asleep now in small pools
dreaming of another season.
Monkeys Touch the Moon
From a tree's lowest branch
above the pond
monkey climbs down monkey
so that the last might
touch the moon.
Marcus Aurelius
After the sudden battle
on the verge of dark woods
the bodies of the fallen
speak to me without speaking,
illuminating my thinking.