Airshow

Every Father's Day there is an airshow somewhere close. Like a lot of men I love aviation, but I chose not to go. I garden instead.

Airshow

Pulling pigweed from potato hills
and watering strawberry row,
I hear a warbird roar.
No. Two in formation fly by,
and off in a distant drone.
Blue sky through trees,
and white clouds,
like smoke on horizon.
My attention is drawn up
and northward. Reaching.
I remember another life...
Was it Nam? or France?
Or a movie clip
that moves my soul.
I go there for seconds.
Maybe minutes like the first.
Then a bluejay lands in the maple.
And another. Excited. Ready.
Like dads at an airshow.
I watch -- and they're off
in a dive, a bank and a roll.
Dad at an airshow
as I take my hoe.
Delighted again
in reflection.
.

Contrast in Morning Song

.
Traffic with its accent
and backbone of motorcycle monotone
lingers from window to wane.
           A robin in contrast to city.
           give me forest and glen
           and the silent side of Mt. Rushmore
           is real life teeming.
I breathe in this solace of Life and Sound.
Dreaming of true song
and patter.
.

Interlude

So much in every moment . . .

Interlude

Crow calls
and a black crow
lights on a wire beside it.

           We watch the morning garden
           in its light and life.

Till the next call. And off.
A second. An interlude.
A crow.

.

Morning Light

I love this time of day!!

***

Morning Light

Every morning
earth's first breath is a blessing in Light
rolling uninterrupted
through infinite possibility.
As we synchronize our Breath
with each other's
we know this love:
Reflective. Translucent.
And Live.
And when night falls here
millions of mornings are re-lit.
It hasn't stopped yet.
So we soak our oats and know more grow
till the Harvest is brought in
by Summer's Light.

.