Old Human Be-ing

Pervasive sadness wakes my nights
& smothers my days.
Nothing wrong except
the news of the world,
and circumstances. 

Against the fecund spring
with its greens and blossoms,
the gravestones announce
the coming winter freeze.

The shortening days
and path.
are hidden in the dark.

Little time left
to claim joy.

and just 



Beauty assaults me,
bounces into my hands,
                                      and my heart
at the long-absent voice. 

Like the greening and blossoms of spring ,
                                                             joy embraces
         sings to me, 
                                 grasps my hand.
I hear and feel

Pentecost Monday

Years have a shape; they throb and ache:
the daily step, the monthly debt.
Mornings rise and afternoons serve -
hidden tears and blazing joys. 

Wasted moments and Summers end,
Autumns harvest and Winters task - 
the long lost times dissolve, dissipate
and Springs secrete unburdened hope. 

Years have a shape and accumulate,
seasons repeat and propagate
the tears and joys that shape our lives,
the days and memories we consecrate.


Memories and a locked chest
Sometimes the mirror moves
showing me what
I’d rather not see.

Memories shift and reform
revealing different stories,
painfully clear now.

We wear such narrow glasses
spotlighting one version,
blind to and blurring peripheral possibilities. 

The Jester

I wrote this in university, after realizing that I could write something and call it a poem, that I had a poetic voice.

The Jester

smiles and grimaces - 


People applaud
the gesture.

Green Time

Magnolia Tree budding
It is the time of green mists
surrounding grey branches
as trees begin again.

Daffodils abound, and 
dandelions replicate,
reflecting the brightening sun.

The earth is warming
as buds move to blooming.
and green shoots thrust upwards.

Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice!