Category Archives: Friendship
The house on Mason Road
is set in the woods with a dirt driveway.
—Mail box leaning
is the only indication of an entranceway.
Both for the snowplows and visitors.
—One, hopefully will miss—
The other, with blinker on
—will turn in
Around the wooded curve to a clearing
where there, sits a house on Mason Road.
King, Princes, and Queen of the peaceful
Open Fire Tribe, harmoniously reside;
surrounded by pines, hardwoods,
— and one apple tree.
Two Princes protect the entrance
With a bold plastic pink flamingo
—ready to pounce
On imaginary villains who mean to do “good” harm!
Prince Popo? First with a plastic hammer; if the shadow has a cast.
Prince Gavyn? Waits for introductions, ducking once or twice
in the invisible clash… eventually both smile with relief
as they are greeted with the sight of bright white teeth,
—giving the signal to continue,
to all walk towards the fire
with hugs and handshakes when possible
—Since most of them have their arms full.
Bringing food, twigs, beer, wine, whiskey, and wood
for an evening’s non-occasion meeting of the Fireside Tribe.
Conversation and laughter overtakes everything
as tradition prescribes,
—they put all things,
other than their ancestors,
And their continued fellowship
“Over and over and over you begin.
Drop, fall, falling and fall
In love again— as the seasons pass,
See your hearts reflection
Looking through the window
One elbow on the windowsill.”
You grew from a seed, fallen from an oak. In your fall
You were embraced in the womb of bright-colored fallen leaves
—quilted for the comfort of winter
—made just for you.
It is nature’s well-attended consummation.
Cleansed by snow, baptized in spring rain,
Encouraged by the earth beneath you,
The sun of life above you—
You grew with patience, understanding, and perseverance.
Now, having watched all seeds grow: let me fall again
—in age with roots entwined and with fallen branches
To nourish you, with patience, understanding, and perseverance
—to build your own home in harmony with nature’s beautiful quilt,
As you drop, fall, falling, and then fall in love again
Over and over and over, you begin.
The meal, whether earned or grown,
Prepared for yourself or by another,
Is one of the greatest gifts of all.
Intention that turns labor into delight,
Into anticipation, preparation,
Hurry, and timing for moments to memory.
Set on clean plates, in wonderful presentation
Framed with silverware and folded napkins.
Once eaten, will disappear into joy and satisfaction,
As all the greatest gifts, do happen.
I’m not getting around doing much reading lately. Listening to my own head and writing notes into drafts, into outlines, revised again and again trying to avoid the trash; has been taking the days. But, I continue my short walks through the woods outside my “cave” and enjoy autumn swooshing summer away in grand fashion; as the days get shorter and the nights get longer, she prepares for a great sleep over, getting completely naked for winter.
Fallen leaf in frost
Pines shelter an autumn grove
for winter’s lover
Child, oh child—unburdened before life.
Fallen star from the heavens—
Floating—on water’s golden light.
In that sunrise—
You carry wood, smile, and be polite.
Helpful as ever-present.
You placed yourself— in my heart
And lifted my life’s purpose—carried—
In your embracing arms.
We sit— in our own houses now.
I look at your photograph—loving you—
Remembering— how strong you are.
Autumn wind, roaring announcement through
distance trees; a moment of rolling sound before we can see
the last clinging leaves, scatter in colorful confetti to dance at our feet.
Winter is coming, in celebration of the bereaved.
We remember those souls
buried below the frost; those we loved and those we lost.
Yes, let us leave the seasons’ past.
Gather the fire wood in our arms, and let us stack
the warmth of memories as we stand fast
embracing what we have, remembering great things
in the glowing, popping sparks, in the hearth
of our hearts, awaiting another spring.
“A piece of green pepper
off the wooden salad bowl:
so what?” Richard Brautigan’s ‘Haiku Ambulance’
water in a bottle
from the spring through clean pipes
leading to the pond.
a yellow daisy
she loves me she loves me not
pluck the Sacred Crop.
a yellow daisy
a monk’s bowl haircut of brown
yellow petals shorn.
darkness on the pond
silhouette closing temples
white in morning sun.
It is a short path
through the woods on my way home
sun shines on my door.
Thanksgiving in Arlington 2014
Walking… the pace was quick,
Following from behind.
An old black man noticing wing tip shoes,
Heels worn, and needing a shine,
Stood in front of me pointing at my shoes,
Eyes crusted with his last night’s sleep,
“I can fix that?” floated through a smile,
Snapping a clean white rag and with an ear to ear grin
Half whispers, “where you goin’ lookin’ like that?”
C’mon Pop! I heard a voice say.
I went around, following the call.
Trying to catch up in my saunter, synchronized in thought
Behind young feet, I crossed the street, to the other side
thinking, I know my shoes and their vast shiny miles.
I have no place I need to go! So, I follow from behind;
Traveling on busy city streets on a child’s path,
paved for shoes, just like mine
The only gifts
that are recognized as gifts
to be given away,
are those you once received.
Where, in the giving,
passing the significance,
you are just as astounded
as when you once received it;
and accepting its importance,
whether it’s a baseball hat,
or, a newly minted