I remember my father, telling me, as we were walking to the rest room, “Don’t foget to washes your hands”. I said, “I know, I do. After”. “Now that you are growing up, I suggest you wash your hands before. Can you imagined, what you have touched today? Doorknobs, handshakes, coins, dollar bills, light poles, oh, and who knows? You get the picture. I Wash BEFORE and AFTER. Do you understand”? He replied. “Yes sir”, I said.
Between winter and spring time
The lamps are on, I can see from their window.
Golden shades worn from years long gone;
Pulled down into shadows.
Seedlings grow from dark to light
What have I sown this morning bright?
How have I grown? Questioned—
Through this sleepless night.
Listening, understanding, and mutual agreement
After speaking each other’s truth and feelings.
Remembering to respond with peace;
Not with words already spoken,
But with the inaudible ones,
The heart so often hears.
Love Is Not Abstract
The light of day is always brighter before transgressing
Into the gray of dusk; as memories are —before they fade.
My presence illuminates my way. I close my eyes to see my path.
I close my mouth to listen for direction. I hear nothing
But my footsteps—
Until they fade—
I Smile in the morning.
Oh, pretty dandelion, yellow-er than gold!
There you are between stones and my footsteps;
Smiling at your announcement of spring
at my door step
In Center Sandwich, NH April 2017