small and brown
in God's ecosystem
tiny bird

Originally published March 16, 2007

As I lie by the pool
the thoughts pour in
with the hot summer sun
barely muffled
by the sound of running water
and screaming children.

The tiny waves beckon softly
and I walk in
to the water
made for me--
caressing, gentle, temperature-perfect
and I am grateful
for the now. 

The Colors of Aging

After years of pretending,
she grows her hair gray
to show the world
what it has done,
like Jackie Kennedy
who wanted everyone to see
the blood
of her husband
on her
pink suit.

August

Someone is stoking the furnace.
The coal has been shoveled in--
little by little-- all summer
and is now being lit with a heavy hand.

The world is surreal
in the wavy mirage
that is the final time
between relaxation
and responsibility.

Summer hopes give way
to monsters in the closet
and solitary naked dreamers
in clothed classrooms
taking tests
for which
they have
not
studied.

For Mike

In the evening,

boats rest in soft sunlight.

Osprey and gulls quiet

their daily complaints

as humanity 

brings its day 

to a close.

The pungent smell of 

gas mixed with oil 

rises from the docks.

I wait for my love.

Time

The mind
circles back
again
and again
replaying those things
not yet erased
by the ensuing seconds
which tick relentlessly
over lifetimes.

And through the
sand-filled hour glass
time slips quickly
and is as impossible to
hold back
as a screaming child
on a summer water slide.

bare tree
in summer growing
marshmallow sticks