Words for My Children

Fill your arms and your shelves

with passions and points of view,

while they are easier to gather

than to throw away.

Join yourself to the symmetries

of well-arranged flowers

and kindness to others.

Respect the birds in their trees.

Do not scrutinize yourself

for evidence of richer,

wiser or even better,

but reach for the edge of the day.

Carry yourself loosely,

alert for celebrations,

or to the epiphany

of a book, a sonata, or someone.  

April 2, 2011

Here is the light like no other,

a brightness not to be denied,

the gift of April:

a gold before the green,

a warmth before anything grows,

life before any life;

a shining which lift thoughts

away from old solemnities,

and sets feet in motion,

an invitation to dance

older than any of our bones,

under the goodness of the sun.

Counting Time

As we measure our lives,

we think of years,

or perhaps decades;

all that great expanse

required for deeds,

the time to make a life;

but how do we know the rain,

find the primrose in bloom

or hear the jays at dawn?

Sometimes we must shorten our view:

the scope must be finer

for all this being,

for all that is beautiful--

what we think eternal--

has no need for eternity,

but is alive in moments

that we can only love

in a lifetime of days.

A Few Thoughts at the End of March

Life goes on, and how do we choose?

We are either entitled or condemned

to a following day, the next chapter--

from wind and blowing snow

to the happy sounds of finches,

who know it’s a better season;

though for us, not so simple,

we who cannot let mere climate

set the tempo of our steps,

who must worry about what we do,

and measure the accounts

of what has been and may be,

though plain sense will tell us

that some days exist only

so that we can smell the spring.

March 13: The Pine Siskins

There I was, walking along,

and all thought was interrupted

by a horde of small beings

and their endless chatter,

the bushes along the trail full of motion,

and I thought of goldfinches,

those birds who know pure joy,

until I saw the brown stripes

and the flashing patches of yellow.

It sent me home to the shelf,

and then I knew the name,

remembered their story,

and I thought, what brave birds,

ready to fly a thousand miles

to some uninviting patch of taiga,

guided by ghostly memory

to some unconscious compass point;

and thought of myself,

anchored to this place like a rock,

and whatever my fancies,

wherever I might want to go,

entirely without their wings.

March 17, 2014: Thinking of Spring

You couldn’t say much for the air,

a raw cold still blowing,

nothing to make you feel welcome

outside the front door;

but the light was kind,

the bright sun of spring,

that golden reach of day

you  barely conceived in January.

Along the river packed with floes,

its banks lined with beached chunks.

the gulls were suddenly back,

a noisy horde cheering the ice southward;

and you thought of possibilities,

let your fancy wander a bit,

and so, a farewell to winter

seemed almost within reach.

March 24, 2011

After two days of rain and snow,

of branches rustling with ice,

and winter still unrelenting,

the dog and I walked down the road

to the sounds of a thousand blackbirds.

There was a new clarity of sun,

a light falling clean and hard

through openings in the woods,

the song sparrow singing,

and a bluebird watching the field--

a sliver from months to come

as one time gave way to the next.

March 24: The Stars of Pennsylvania

Tonight we had that lovely curve,

that shining, the points of light

which wrap the world

from one edge to the other,

and you could think of names,

all the stories from the past,

pick out those patterns

filled with gods and heroes,

that wide skein of memories

which holds us all together

in a web of wonder--

or you could just let yourself

reach no further than a moment,

ponder this gift of long ago

and drown in its brightness.

Leo and Stanley

Have you ever met Leo and Stanley?

They have reached ten and are quite manly.

They roar through the house making noise,

through an obstacle course filled with toys.

There are many ways to have fun,

but the very best gives each a Nerf gun,

and throughout the place I hear BLAMMO!!!

(as they fire off all that sponge ammo...);

and then they are shrieking like pullets,

as they search for all the lost bullets;

but soon peace will reign in the end

(until they happen to meet again!)