KARMA
I never planned a future.
I never envisioned a life.
A series of doors opened up.
Like Alice I scurried through them:
Accepted college tuition,
In Wyoming encountered a husband,
Spent two years in Lima, Peru,
Helped to erect two houses,
Taught English classes and reading,
Had five outstanding offspring
Who now keep an eye on me.
I did not pursue my destiny.
My star led me on like the magi.
A MORNING MISSION
This morning a smoking sea
Of fog enveloped my friend’s
Adirondack lake cottage.
The straggly tips of lonesome
Pines poked out of the mist.
Through glassy water we paddled
To reach a secluded cove.
My friend was on a mission:
She carried her cat’s ashes
To lie in a pristine place
Among the wild inhabitants
Close to the sacred stone
Marking her son’s grave.
LOOK TO THE HILLS
I was feeling blue.
I was feeling glum.
My big 9-0 birthday
Had recently come and gone.
The years that were ahead
Suddenly looked too few.
I headed for the hills
For a more uplifting view
But the hills were wrapped in mists.
And yet the morning after,
Patches of sky shone through.
I recalled a lyric line:
“I’m gonna live until I die.”
And I felt my spirits rise.
THE ART OF THE POEM
Oh I could probably pen
The enigmatic page:
“In the shattered mirror
At the window I see crows…”
Op Art is all the rage.
As every critic knows,
Poetry in plain style
Is rather juvenile.
But I would sooner share
The loon song on the lake
Or a stand of birches,
One moment that may make
Its mark on the sands of time
In rhythm and in rhyme.
FAMILY REUNION
On the river bank
I look for you
Where the poplars bend
And our green canoe
Hangs under the eave
Of the little shed.
On the grassy heights
Of old battlefields
Where the purple knotweed
Now invades
I trace the trails
Where we once skied.
As your daughters voice
Old family songs
My heart responds:
I sing along.