nearing Summer
Land dwellers. Sea rovers. Tillers. Spelunkers. Before you ask the questions many ask; have asked since man
My body. Outstretched. On a deck. Between the Sky and the Earth.
Days and nights of pines and stars. Of blue bays, white schooners, top-down
Once cloud-high mountains, shaped and worn from hundreds of millions of rainfalls, windfalls, frosts. Rounded now
To ask your Self. In the still of the night, whether bright-starred or half-mooned. In the midst of the day,
Burnished at first, then blemished— an earthly foreshadowing. Then bearded for a while.
The tender new leaves of the trees, emergently green. The white feathers of the wading egret.
A frosted cake layered with cars and people, rosetted with gulls, points out toward quiet afternoon islands.
Be still now with the Earth. Still with the Sun, the Land, Sea
The only thing warm tonight in the deep winter sky ~ and soon to occlude. The Wolf Moon, Ice Moon, Old Moon.
Sunny jaunts, now-and-again treats, with cousins, siblings; and parents along but somehow invisible.
Those many, sung and unsung, who gave themselves, often gave up their lives, to fight, in wars,
How deeply are you living, friend? How sense-deep. How heart, and
The courtly old lady, widowed for decades, and her calico cat, who take each afternoon sun
Fog pours in through the half-open windows. Fills our small bedroom by the bay. Pools