The willow,
driven mad by
thirst it cannot quench
via its root system,
dips its branches into
Harlem Meer.
Central Park
22 October 2011
Category Archives: Poem
Willow at Harlem Meer
Filed under Poem
Eyes between his feet
Faithfully, patiently, his black eyes sat between his feet.
His white hair, lightly, very lightly peppered hung over his shirt collar.
oblivious to the passengers who looked them over carefully,
his thumb flicked open his watch to learn the time.
The train slowed as it approached the station; his eyes stood
on all four legs, certain this was the stop; he patted a haunch,
spoke softly, and shortened the leash; his eyes sat back down.
When the train squealed to halt, they rose, and together departed.
Downtown 3 Train
17 October 2011
Filed under Poem
Dependence
The still of early morning breaks
when, in the effort to digest
the evening’s overconsumption,
spasms clench my gut and stir me
to the cusp of sleep. There unsought
shadows of my failures greet me:
come again to shame, to haunt me.
Bitterly they rise and lurch from
memory into awareness,
one by one, then all together
they cascade into a torrent
pricking remorse with reminder
how deeply I depend on grace.
October 9, 2011
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
A morning thought on age
As I prepare for the day,
working through pains and aches,
it occurs to me that
I am either
too young to be this old
or
too old to feel this young.
8 October 2011
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
Under a grey blanket
A grey blanket
envelopes the airport,
the constant drizzle
enhances the atmosphere –
the dreariness exceeded
only by my mood.
2 October 2011
CLE
Filed under Poem
Aircraft movement
Still sat the plane
at the gate,
wheels chocked,
jet bridge attached,
going nowhere.
I gazed at the
screen in the seat in front of me,
where complimentary Direct TV service
would play,
entertaining me with visual delights.
But “due to aircraft movement”
by the chocked-wheels,
attached-to-the-jet-bridge
aircraft going nowhere
the service was not available.
And I wondered at the cause:
had a crew member set a wrong switch?
Did sensors somewhere think the plane was moving?
The more I wondered, the less, I wanted to know.
I fell asleep.
3 October 2011
CO 1575
Cold night in Wooster town
The damp cold seeps
into his bones,
makes muscles ache,
and sinews moan,
Stirred by the pain,
but half awake,
he reaches out
across the grate,
hunting warmth and
seeking comfort.
Finding no one,
he sighs deeply,
shivers once, twice,
then tightly curls
into a ball,
pulls closer the
tattered blanket,
and tries to find
sleep yet once more.
1 October 2011
Wooster, Ohio
Life happens in between
Suspended between
birth
and
death
hope
and
despair
faith
and
doubt
sorrow
and
joy
indifference
and
love
we make our way,
we journey,
we live.
25 September 2011
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
Red rock NYC
In the morning, early in the morning,
far too early in the morning,
I rise and stumble toward the bathroom,
the vista out my window catches my attention;
I pause to watch the sun dance in shades of red
on the buildings of Morningside Heights,
calling to mind the mesas on the Colorado Plateau.
For the longest time I stand,
feeding my spirit on the city canyons’ beauty.
17 September 2011
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
His move
It’s your move.
The words startled him;
his head jerked up,
he shifted in his seat.
For the briefest of moments, their knees touched,
bare flesh warm on bare flesh.
He quickly moved his leg away
as though he had seared it on a stove’s lit burner.
It’s your move, came the repeated words.
Their eyes locked,
one soul peering deep into another.
What happens next is up to you.
The clear invitation echoed in his head
and pierced his heart.
His breathing quickened as he pondered the words,
envisioning what might be,
sensing opportunity,
imaging possibilities of joy,
considering consequences.
He broke the gaze and looked down,
staring intently,
absorbed a whirlpool of thought,
momentarily lost in eddies of emotion.
After an eternal ninety-seven seconds,
he leaned forward and, smiling broadly,
reached out his hand and took
queen’s knight to c3.
16 September 2011
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
Along the Graybeard Trail 