The Day Before

Twenty years ago no one thought that tomorrow would be a historic one. We were living our lives on the most mundane level. Airplanes flew overhead without much notice. Twenty years later we know life always goes on, but with what costs and what additions. Twenty years later our tears still rise unbidden. Twenty years later seem just a short sleep before awakening again to how hatred far away can still touch us.

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The stretch of Farewell

I write a farewell every year to my son, Jason, who is gone from my life and the earth. The echo of that farewell sweeps around the cosmos with a million voices. Does it find him? Does it just fade out. Sound can be silent too. I don’t forget him.

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Eating Up the Summer

Sharp bites into the pillowy season

make me yearn for that wine that

caresses. It is lazy time for me. I munch

on garden views, and I find bliss in the darkness that

arrives late to the party and leaves early.

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Second Choice

You were never my second choice, but sometimes I feel I was yours. Our life together pleased me often, but when you spoke of her I wondered what she gave you that slowed your words and made you look away. My heart would break…and you would not hear it. Slowly it would grow back together. Did you love me best? I know you loved me last. But best?

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Climbing Up the Rabbit Hole

Back into my old life, hanging on to the ground so I won’t slip down the rabbit hole once again. I feel a weight on my life that is more than physical. This is dangerous fall that could happen if I let go even for a second. I don’t like tunnels or dark spaces. Rabbit holes are for rabbits. Can we return them thus now that the pandemic is retreating?

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Staring Victory in the Face

I have always been a loser in contests. And lotteries. Never thought to find the end of the rainbow. Or the key to the kingdom. But now I feel as though the bridge over troubled waters is crossed. Not in wealth, but in sheer survival. All of us who made it through. Made it through the worst of the virus and the subtle prisons life built. The face of victory is not pretty. It has scars and wrinkles. It is our own internal face.

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A Loss of Time

I realize Time has flowed on down towards the Great Ocean while I have been waiting for Life itself to start again. At my age I value Time even as its minutes dribble through my clutching fingers. We humans try to hard to shape Time as though it were a clay we could manipulate. But to see where real Time lives, look into the stars and galaxies beyond. It isn’t hiding. It’s moving.

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Death As Sting or Victory

There are many meditations on the end of life. We are coming to that time of year when one religion remembers the death of Jesus and his rising three days later. But he did not linger that long in this world again. Death is the end of the novel of each life. We only know it from this side of the story. Yet we fear it or welcome it or ignore it.

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Aimlessly Drifting

The quarantine has unmoored me at last. I am in the middle of the great lake of Time, floating and unresolved. Perhaps the thunder will come to applaud me. I think deeply and breathe the same. Otherwise I wait…for wind or tide or super hero.

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Snow Moon (February 2021)

When the frost dulls me at the midnight hour

I can see the fresh falling of the moonlight,

waking me to that special moon that chills

further the loneliness of my quarantine.

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