To learn what life will bring you,
for a fee, a modest fee,
Sister Rose will read your palm
and tell you just what will be.
Now only for this summer,
Rose is offering a steal,
two readings at one low price:
how can you pass on such a deal?
For should you be discouraged
by what your right hand reveals,
your left one may provide you
with a future that appeals.
13 July 2011
Espanola, NM and Ghost Ranch, NM
Filed under Poem
Alone, he sits in the far corner
where he can survey the whole shop.
He sees everything,
yet comprehends nothing;
he focuses not on the people or place.
Lost in thought,
trapped in feeling,
memories batter his spirit
mistake
upon
mistake
upon
mistake
they parade past his mind’s eye.
A legion of poor choices and bad decisions
march endlessly from his past and
define his present and
shape his future.
When he can stand to watch no more,
with an effort of will he shakes his head and
returns to the moment.
Fingers gnarled as pinon tree.
wrap around the mug before him.
The coffee has grown cold.
13 July 2011
Ghost Ranch, NM
Filed under National Park, Poem
Lightning pierces the blue-black night
illuminating the cholla;
the moon fights through a cloud,
turning it a pale white;
a soft breeze sweeps across the mesa,
bringing a gentle chill;
the silent night is broken only by the
chirping of crickets and the
thumping of the dryer.
11 July 2011
Ghost Ranch, NM
Filed under Poem
Engaged in its eternal effort to wear away the stones in its bed,
the Big Thompson thunders beside the road
as I drive east to Greeley,
there to remember, to celebrate, to give thanks for the life of a friend.
Memories – of things done, things left undone – wash over my mind.
Death after death – of those loved, those unmet – flood my heart.
The road winds round a rocky outcrop;
the sun’s brilliant rays stab my eyes,
bringing tears.
9 July 2011
US 34, Greeley, CO, Estes Park, CO
Filed under Poem
For uncounted ages they have kept
a silent vigil over the valley:
steadfast, firm,
silent observers of
days gone by,
events long forgotten,
moments well-remembered.
For unknown ages they may stand
a stoic presence in the valley:
constant, unmoving,
voiceless witnesses to
occurrences unforseen,
futures unknown,
happenings unimagined.
8 July 2011
Estes Park, CO
The image was taken at the Lumpy Ridge Trailhead, Rocky Mountain National Park
Filed under National Park, Photo, Poem
The aroma of coffee comforts me
as a slow drizzle falls;
clouds creep down the mountains,
a chill steals into the air.
I grasp my mug tighter,
warmth seeping into my fingers.
The rain increases.
8 July 2011
Estes Park, Colorado
Filed under National Park, Photo, Poem
On that cusp between sleep and waking
I hang suspended and wonder
what is real
what is remembered
what is dream
Filed under Poem
The lilt of uilleann pipes
fills my soul
while memories of
green fields never seen,
gentle rains never felt,
and cobblestone streets never walked,
haunt my heart.
27 June 2011
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
Step by step, we march toward peace,
step by step, the march goes on.
No one steps every step;
each one steps but some.
We may not reach the journey’s end,
but without our steps,
however few, however small,
no one ever will.
Step on.
Step on.
Act by act, justice is done,
act by act, justice does grow.
No one takes every act;
each one takes but some.
We may not see full justice done,
but without our acts,
however few, however small,
no one ever will.
Act on.
Act on.
Note by note, we play our part,
note by note, the song goes on.
No one plays every note;
each one plays but some.
We may not hear the last coda,
but without our notes,
however many, however few,
no one ever will.
Play on.
Play on.
27 June 2011
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
I wish
that we had met
under different circumstances.
Of course it is
the circumstances we face
that shape us, mold us, make us who we are.
Under different circumstances
we would be different people,
and maybe the different you
would not want to know the different me;
maybe the different me
would not want to know the different you.
Or maybe we would.
Since we will never know,
perhaps we would do better
to enjoy what is
than to wish for what we do not know
and will never be.
22 June 2011
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
Along the Graybeard Trail 