That Easter

Brick chimney, green ivy tapers skyward
Rain in northwestern New Hampshire
Fireplace in old country cottage
Red door, hook rug, and tea
I remember the scent
Of your sweater
That Easter
And you
Yes
Dreams are like smoke sometimes rising.

.

Sheep Dogging

When I was a boy we had a dog named Togo. He took his job seriously--guarding the homestead. But we had a sign for callers:

Beware of Dog.

____________________________

Sheep Dogging

Celebrity makes it possible
for all to drop a name
was it Reagan or John Wayne
who coined "Make my day!"?

And because one says, oh so sincerely
"I too have a dream!"
does it mean his truth rings true
to Martin Luther King?

Just because we know the jargon
of stump and social standing
it does not mean we speak the truth
but just in sheep-dog ranting.

____________________________

Animals can represent the best and worst of human behavior. (Check out animal totems.) I love them and have heard it said that they hold the higher consciousness of the planet, which keeps us from self-annihilation. They have unique status in the kingdom of souls.
.

freedom's long wait

A past life, a vision of possibility, or deep look into a soul too long in torment... I first saw it, heard it, in October.

rattle key and chatter of the rats
their echo halts my freedom dreams
by iron clank and clatter seems
to resonate in grinding off
the dross and reverie of loss

sound now low note of gate unlocked
drown out the chorus as I'm mocked
by enemy most, some were friend
all in this creaking song of time
rust still breaking in its whine

awaken now a thirst within
hidden by that ancient sin
knowing now I drop from bone
a cover drawn against the cold
to rise and pass steal door and go

I leave by these steep steps of stone
and cross the halls of reckoning
through corridors of jeering souls
this walk through time and now: sunshine
to freedom's wooden framed gallows

This isn't the best writing of mine, but I think the feeling comes through.

Secret in Love Song

Recognizing the beauty of a flower

or joy in the face of a baby

is not by degree

or pitch of exclamation

but by a sacred respect

only hinted at by glint of eye

or the smile held close in its brilliance

more a secret in the love song to God.

Fireworks express full freedom

when truth is of the heart--

for toll of ocean waves

crash long on shores

inhabited or not.

With the whack of a racket ball

catching the morning train

or love-making ecstasy--

each prayer is heard
by breath of heart

.

Grandpa's Wagon

I had two granddads I don't recall--I was too small after they passed away. But I had a dad and mom, and I know the kind of love of grandfolks. I can go there in soul, in poem. Fiction or not. Stories, the lives of others and gleaned from my own memories and make-believe . . .

Grandpa's Wagon

Grandpa told his stories
In a mind of other time:
When I was young
I had a wagon
Green and gold letters--the words
Don't know what the writing said
Stoked full and pulled
From Pa's woodshed.
I liked my little wagon
Green and gold.
And when the wheels got old and broke
Too many heavy loads
Pa replaced them with four runners
Lined with steel for snow and ice.

I liked my wagon sled
And new one painted red.
We stoked a lot of wood
In snow and rain
Grandpa always said.

I can hear
My daughter's daughter
Say, Granddad
Can we go out and play?

.

december morning gift

there are gifts in every season... blessings inside and out.

december morn
before horizon's gift
just hints its blue contrast
to roof's white pack aglow
and framed by branches rack
of turning textures brown
from spirits standing now
in skeletal remains
of images once green
then spread in red man's blanket
and sleeping under drift
yet deep within
an urge to spring
still silence
in the frigid forms
outside this window
warm inside
we squirrel in nest
recalling fall
and summer's hold
before horizon's gift
this frozen morn

(from journal page of 12/15/09)