Life is not always fair — sometimes you get a splinter sliding down
revised
entry has been revised since original publication
September backyard
sprightly little yellow butterflies
flitter their aërial dance in pairs
through tireless mud dauber paths
and webs sway vacant in the breeze
of poor spiders caught unawares
October-blood
come scarlet leaves and falling light
this time of year — October-blood
runs through the veins of autumn —
slowing heartbeat and longer breaths
shorter daytimes and chilling nights
warm hearts and sanguine thoughts
Poetry of spring
Springtime is a poet —
the blue sky its blank page
so vibrant green in rhyme
a different metre for every clime
birds chirping to keep the time
wildflowers yellow, red, purple divine
words dancing on tall blades of grasses
sparkling in the morning dews
no commas the flow keeps buzzing
vernal dashes & blossoming branches
on newly greening verdant trees
refrains whispering in each breeze
butterflies — floating apostrophes
ladybugs dot floral question marks
blissful bees stray stanza to stanza
seeds disperse from verse to verse
continuing a poem that’s never ended
and into summer’s colors is blended
It’s personal
there is no timetable for grieving —
grief is a snail
it’s a shooting star
a walk around the lake
it’s eternity
or frost till bloom —
memories coursing through the heart
it lasts as many heartbeats as it takes —
sometimes all of them.
Depending
Sometimes life gives honey
and other times, stings;
Sometimes we need roots—
and other times, wings.
Serenity & grace
when I fall into old age
let it be not a drunkenly
face-first tumble but rather
an autumn leaf gracefully
drifting from the tree —
or if we ascend into our
older years please let me
soar and not be flung
Seasonal wisdom
learn from leaves
green is go —
yellow & red
slow down, stop
take time to rest
Weariest old work horse
“A horse loves freedom, and the weariest old work horse will roll on the ground or break into a lumbering gallop when he is turned loose in the open.”
—Gerald Raftery (1905–1986), Snow Cloud, 1951
Humble warrior
Success is a shell — don’t let it harden around your ego.
Failure is a shell — don’t let it harden around your determination.
May you
May you lose a lot that matters to you
a few times in your life—
May you make and remake and
remake yourself over and again
and burn yourself right down
to ashen smoking embers
of bone and grit and soul—
So that you may always know
the pain of rock bottom
the freedom of rebirth
the hope of revival
the gift of perspective
the awareness of your strength—
May you lose but live again.
Decide
Life is a neverending series of judgment calls.
Branching
this winter afternoon
i stare between bare
branches of gray trees
in the distance i see
an unreturnable past
or a dwindling future
i can’t tell which but
the silence is sublime