All poems
EPIPHANY
Veiled by thickly falling snow,
Winter robins come and go.
From my window I can see
Them flocking in the tall pear tree.
Startled by the passing plow,
Scattering in a frantic cloud,
Flitting, fluttering, never still,
They seldom pause to eat their fill.
Off the roof a sudden gust
Convinces them they’ve had enough.
I wish them luck, I wish, “God Speed!”
I hope they find sustaining seed.
I’m glad I’ve had this chance to know
Winter robins in the snow.
(January 2, 2014)
NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION
I have to learn to sleep alone.
With fleece sheets to keep me warm,
Burrowing into my memory foam ,
I do my best to sleep alone.
Curled around his broader form
I felt his heart beat like my own.
Now I must learn to sleep alone.
For all the lonely nights to come
We must be two: I must be one.
I have to learn to sleep alone.
(January 1, 2014)
THE LAST OF THE PEARS
The basket of pears you sent
From Harry and David arrived
On time on Christmas Eve.
They’d tissued each perfect pear
In festive and seasonal green,
Beribboned and bedecked,
But not yet ripe. Each day
I nuked a pair in raw sugar
And rum, and they were tasty.
However, on New Year’s Eve
The last of the pears called out to me,
Blushing and chilling in the fridge.
It yielded softly to the knife.
Sweeter than sugar and more
Intoxicating than rum, the juice
Ran down my chin, and I thought,
“What better way for an old year
To end or for a new year to begin.”
12/31/2013
HOW SOON WE FORGET
Rising at dawn to join the long
Check-in lines, lost baggage,
Missed connections, luggage
Seized by porters speaking
In foreign tongues, on-board
Plastic snacks, and on arrival
Montezuma’s upsetting revenge,
Altitude headaches, the swing
And sway of undulating waves
As we lie in our bunks, unsoothed
By the whining winch and the engine’s drone.
On shore the cobbled streets
And unexpected steps slick
With rain, lintels too low
To duck and then the cough
Bestowed by our plane’s tainted
Air. All these blessings we vow
Never to risk again, But then
The brochures beckon and wea
Recall the friendships, sunrise
On seastacks, sunsets on glacial
Peaks, discovery’s shock of surprise,
Eye-opening, mind-waking and
We begin to plan again.
The loons call out to me, circling below the rim
(As only loons can swim, proudly and gracefully)
At the top of the Leishman cup. I hear their querulous cry
As I raise the cup to my expectant and willing lips,
On the perfectly tapered rim from which no drop will fall
As the curving handle will softly cushion my thumb.
So does the Potter mold a marriage of utility
With art in quiet harmony: the clay then turns to gold.
REFLECTIONS ON THE TOWN DUMP
This pyramid of metal arms and legs
Recalls a stack of antlers
In Jackson Hole, Wyoming:
That shock of recognition sparked
By castoff appendages,
That disturbance of tourists
Decanted into catacombs
Where skulls and bones
Have clattered into silence,
Duckpins struck by bowling balls.
This tangle of lawn chairs
Is one more moraine dropped
By glaciers of purchase power
Onto overstuffed landfills.
Beyond is a small mountain
Of tires, a ridge of refrigerators,
Stoves, washers and dryers.
Workers sort bottles by colors
And stuff trailer trucks full
Of papers. Oils and toxic
Chemicals are collected
For hopefully safe disposal,
Leaving plastics to be buried
By bulldozers for future
Archaeologists to ponder.
DEER CROSSING THE ICE
Wood nymphs frisking on the frozen lake,
I see them as I ski around the bend.
They could be leading Pan a merry chase,
Curvetting to a fanfare of March wind.
I yearn to join them on the silver stage
With sunlit birch and cedar scenery,
Lift and bend in an ecstacy of grace,
Dance to the pulsing universal heartbeat.
As David danced at the altar of the Lord,
As wavelets dance on the bosom of the land,
Jete on the wind, the bold leap forward,
Bow and retreat as birches learn to bend.
Hooves and tails melt on a wooded isle.
I blink to clear the water from my eyes.
AERIES
(For Jim and Loraine)
Some people live in glass houses
And watch the arabesques of waves
Along the shore while making harmonies
Of baroque bassoon, flute and harpsichord,
Or talk of politics and architects while spider
Webs of city lights outshine the stars.
Having climbed peaks and photographed
The ancient sites of arts and wars,
They perch their homes on canyon walls
Softened by swirling mists that flow around
Pines, cedars and jagged vertebrae
That sharpen mountain spines. These happy
Few have made their lives a work of art
To share with friends and students. They
Like Hawaiian dancers hold the sun,
Moon, rain, stars and wind in their hands.
ANNIVERSARY GREETINGS TO OLD FRIENDS
As young marrieds we shared a tent,
Pine-needle scented, beside Lake Erie.
After supper we took long walks.
Moonlight bleached the green out of the grass.
Between New England and the Mid West
Letters wove a cat’s cradle of news
Across the miles, harpoons trailing explosives.
We transmitted the years of our lives.
We have pedaled leaf-dappled bike paths
Into Van Gogh”s light-blasted landscapes,
Reddened our mouths with Antwerp raspberries
And spiraled on soprano notes around St. Paul’s.
Watching children and parents disappear
Beyond opposite bends of the river,
We raft the whitewater, exhilarated,
Savoring the swiftness, the infinite variety.
THERAPY
The pain is IT. Her gambit
Is to hide as in childhood games.
She fills her pack with gear
And takes to hills where mountain
Ashes drop their scarlet tears
On the trail. She pulls herself
By friendly birchbark handholds
Up over barrier ledges.
She sucks in air until
The fist within her diaphragm
Unclenches, leaving her
Seared and hollow as a
Redwood drilled by lightning.
The final sprint to the height
Of land is an epiphany.
ADVICE TO A YOUNG POET
Sarah, I was pleased to meet your snowman.
He reminded me of others I have known
And other precious moments with grandparents
Or play with childhood friends who’ve long been gone.
We’re riding high speed trains into the future.
We know we want these memories to last.
But snapping blurry pictures can be futile.
A poem can be a postcard from the past.
So if and when your train stops at a station,
Put down your I phone, take a good long look.
Breathe in the scene, then write an encryptation
To be decoded in your memory book.