Beauty

. On Quantock Hills On Quantock Hills, as Skylarks sing aloft, A humble pilgrim walks on ways of old, In morning light, with air so still and soft, The book held in his hand doth gleam of gold. He sits to rest and contemplate his soul, But senses ancient darkness...

. Optimism ---to the Class of 2025 The world is cold and hard and dark enough; We need not cloud it with our own despair. And it is furnished, too, with joyous stuff, And you may find a blessing anywhere You turn your eyes, if they are opened wide— The...

. Never Time to Spare ---a villanelle My daughter, I am watching you with love for I’ve been there, When dishes overflow the sink and books are everywhere, When everyday seems just the same with never time to spare. I see you take a breath and smile and separate a...

. Independence Day, 2025 It’s so much more than red and white and blue And stars that spangle banners flying high. It’s something strong and stark and deep and true. It burns with answers to the question why Souls ache to slip a granite-fisted grip. It’s something fierce that flickers...

. The Playland Once in a playland caked with fresh-born mud, I saw a league of book-freed children smile collectively like petals of a bud in varied forms, yet similar all the while. Palms latched, they capered; every tooth a pearl; all independent like the wandering clouds. No hands to...

. Summer Family Cookout Criss-cross, hamburger toss, _Flip that sizzlin’ patty! Pretty please, and top with cheese! _You’re the Great Grill Master, Daddy! Three-two-one, slide it on a bun! _With ketchup, tomato and lettuce Hip-hip-hop, put a pickle on top _Call the kids to come and get it! Mom’s in...

. Bayesian Hubris v. Mercy Seat 11A “Vishwash Kumar Ramesh, 40, who miraculously walked away from the Ahmedabad disaster, in which more than 240 people were killed” ---The Daily Telegraph on Air India Flight 171 crash Bayesian inference: a method of statistical inference ... used to calculate a probability of...

. Every Square Inch Her every square inch, her breath, and her voice, In all this and more my soul can rejoice. The beat from her heart, the wink from her eye, The times she is bold, and then she is shy. The cute upturned nose, and the curve of...

. Cardinals The cardinal is my favorite bird.They mate for life, or so I’ve heard.You hear them sing antiphonally—it’s like a game they play, you see,because they like to keep in touch.But be apart? Well, not so much. In that, they’re just like you and me(save that our home is...

. Doctor Subtilis ---Blessed John Duns Scotus (1265--1308) A proud and canny Scot from Duns am I, an infant when Franciscans reached our coast. These friars gave me tools to weigh the why of doctrines puzzling theologians most. Northhampton brothers shaped my childish mind. My tutors sent me then to...

. Another Species Each time you felt some shame you could confess The sins you had committed, but instead You whispered a revision, something less In someone’s ear in yet another bed. That is to say, you were quite off your head, And took it out on everyone you knew....

. The Prayer Blanket ---as related to me by my friend Tim Cassar, who recently survived a brain cancer operation by Brian Yapko The paramedics came. They took my friend To where there was no earthly pain or fear. Of course, he worried this might be the end--- But Tim...

. Together The windows of our dawning day_Let light in through the dew,But outdoors ambling in cool air,_I knew that I’d find you. Close comfort, venturing apart,_We played our separate games,Dreaming the dreams that draw each heart_Toward unacknowledged aims. I sailed too soon, no longer home_To go on side by...

. The Comings and Goings of Heaven and Earth Clouds’ movement in the sky, the sight of birds, phenomena that draw an upward glance, may sometimes leave us at a loss for words, uncertain if we’ll get another chance. Yet, these are givens in the firmament, and though not firmly...

. Periwinkle Don't know that I was on the spectrum, no, But I was weird. I read too much and played Pretend too much. My mind too often strayed To places so interior they’d glow With something strange and Christmas-y, a slow And simple light, its luminance deep-laid With resonances...

. Salmon Skin _Laid temptingly Upon a china dish, _Poached perfectly, A long, pink flank of fish. _Its scents amaze. Fork poised to dig right in, _I stop and gaze, Fixated on its skin: _Smooth gradient From silver-white to black _Of radiant Small mirrors shining back _The candles’ light, Mosaic...

. The Weight of a Father . I. The Smell of Sawdust On bawling-brother, busy-mother days, The saint who slew the dragons in her dream Whisked her through the fuss-and-fluster maze To realms where fathers shine and daughters beam. She watched the magic hands that hugged her tight At one...

. When the Child Appears by Victor Hugo (1802-1885)translated from French by Bruce Phenix When the child appears, the family’s loud praiseBursts out in claps and shouting. His sweet, bright gaze__Makes everyone’s eyes bright.And the saddest brows, their clouds too dark to clear,Seeing the innocent, joyful child appear,__Unwrinkle at the...

. Durus Frater, Alma Mater Spring forward to where former arch-rivals Fall back on tall stories of the travels They enjoyed after two years of college, Before graduation sealed the knowledge Of how little there was to learn keeping Track of credit hours, how hours spent sleeping Made for better...

. Time and Place He gave me his coat once in Dublin At dusk in a damp, chilly draft. We spoke of those old Irish writers--- Just where had they mastered their craft? Did Wilde wield his pen in Dun Laoghaire While pausing beside the cold sea, Or did he...

. Soldier of the Rising Sun Date/Location: February 19, 1974---Uninhabited jungle, Lubang Island in the northern Philippines. The matter: Believing that Japan is still fighting World War II almost 30 years after its defeat, Japanese soldier Hiroo Onoda has not surrendered. However, he senses the winds of change in the...

. Double Rondel for Pentecost Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! O fire that warms my soul, You burn within to turn my love heart-whole, And burst beyond as fervor unsuppressed. Celestial flame, my most delightful guest, Inspire me as a temple you control. Dispel my darkness, radiant aureole, Refine my gold...

. In Urbe Hortus ---June afternoon in the South Garden of the Art Institute of Chicago Hard stone and brick, cold glass and steel Shrink behind the canopy Of intertwining leafy boughs Sprawling from each vine-wrapped tree; The roar of engines, rush of traffic, Clamor of the roiling crowd, Beyond...

. In Her Fair Foundry, Nature Forges Art by Claude Gaspar Bachet de Meziriac (1581-1638) translated from French by Josh Mitteldorf In her fair foundry, Nature forges art, Divinity of beauty knows no peer. The orbs of stars and planets we hold dear Have burned their disks upon our eyes...

. To a Virginia Bluebell You nod to me across the trail That runs before my garden seat. With clustered bells of blue you greet My visit with a subtle peal. You wave your frolic fans of green So gaily, as if you had met Some kinsman or awaited yet...

. A Walk in Solitude I strolled a path in solitude As snow and frosty winds renewed. The night was giving way to light When I beheld a startling sight: There was a figure up ahead Whose twisted shape invited dread. Its form was cloaked in falling snow, Which by...

. Song of the Heron by Ueda Bin (after the French of Emile Verhaeren) translated from Japanese by Yoshikaze Kawakami By the bleak golden waters, Where the water lilies bloom, The heron slowly hovers, And sends its shade of gloom. The shadows on the pond Are spread like robes and...

. Forsythia Fading ---after Robert Frost and A.E. Housman Green leaves push yellow blooms away. Bold colors leave, their lives an hour Compared with green things’ lengthened day. It’s true that nothing gold can stay. Late April, maybe early May, Pink blossoms drop, no more to flower, Upon the lawn....

. On a Raging Storm Storms raged in the eastern U.S. in Spring of 2019. Is it a freak of summer or the norm? A gale, a blast, a squall is roaring past. In wrath that cuts and claws, the raging storm Leaves in its wake select debris amassed To...

. Ten Pennies Per Paper Poppy ---a childhood memory of Memorial Day Ten pennies per paper poppy I helped my mother sell We sold some fifty poppies ---She thought we did quite well. Pretty paper poppies For soldiers who passed away. They had a smell of honor On our Memorial...

. The Genesis Wind ---written in the wake of Hurricane Milton I close my eyes to better gauge the gusting wind. It howls and tantrums hard against the metal shutters And bends the flailing palms and scrub oaks. Then I find It deadens into ghastly silence. My heart flutters Within...

. What the Caterpillar Calls the End ---for those who are becoming The light grew dim, the air grew still, The green world closed, the leaf went chill. “I am undone,” the small voice cried, Wrapped in a thread the dusk supplied. No sky, no sun, no place to flee;...

. Sonnet XIII On days you do not need my sound embrace, When tenderness and warmth envelop you And Fortune shines upon your amber face And suffering and sorrow are but few, I wonder what your mind then does with me? From the shore the grey tide pulls away; Of...

. Young Catherine’s Vision ---on St. Catherine of Siena Invested with the Dominican Habit by Giovanni di Paola A maiden kneels on gray da Torre stone. Save for a crucifix, the room is bare. Her thighs seem formed of otherworldly bone; her anorexic body drifts on air. As if in...

. Sally  November rains brought to our basement door From the woods some pleading, needy eyes Staring from a fur mass, soaking wet. Our catless home (about to be no more) Welcomed her and tended to her cries. By Providence we had ourselves a pet. I don’t recall why Sally...

. Bonanza The March of rains has staked its claim, its boast _To brag upon these thousand hills, and opened the sluice of the motherlode to mantle the slopes in yellow and gold. _From Tehachapi to the poppied coast, __meadowlark-loud with whistles and trills, _Spring’s linen is laid along every...

. Going Home to Campania I come back to my cool and quiet road, Testudo-shielded by umbrella pines, Where pavement cracked and garbage overflowed To fade beyond in bright converging lines. I come back as a stranger, long since grown, Back to a land I knew when I was small,...

. The Spring Has Come The mating call of the black-capped chickadee (a North American songbird) sounds like "Hey, Sweetie!" "Hey, Sweetie!"—this is what you say.Small chickadee, it is your wayto signal interest in your mate.You sing and chase—and often wait—until she deigns to make your day. A furtive "cheep,"...

. Ghost Town With phantoms, I have lived for far too long. Both day and night, I’ve sighed, without a song. In vacant shells, I’ve tried to make my home In this ghost town of memories where I roam. They crowd like tombs around me every day--- These husks of...

. The Sky _I'm watching the storm_From the sea coming in,Windy and rowdy and gray._The raindrops begin_And the gale makes a spin.Pelicans swoop o'er the bay. _A downpour at last_With some lightning and flash,Thrashing the coast and the cay._As thunderclouds boom_And the sky threatens doom,Nature makes good at its play....