Beauty

. Good Friday Rain I wake and hear the rain cascade. Its cleansing drops roll down my pane; They soak the garden, bathe the glade, Refresh the grass, and swell the grain. Stretched out in bed, from stress aloof, I lie in peace, content to hear The pleasing patter on...

. Magnolia The south wind’s newfound breath, The spring sun’s waxing ray, Draw from your outward death An opulent array. Before one fleck of green Has clothed your naked frame, The life that coursed unseen Bursts from your bones, aflame: Lush orbs of rose and cream Unfurl like lotus blooms,...

. The Tale of the Moon’s Reign ---an elegy Above the skies where reigns the moon _So bright in hours of gloom Lived those whose hearts no longer feel _Nor suffer and yearn to heal. We mortals hailed this sacred realm, _Where bliss must overwhelm. Their princess once found herself...

. Dirty Dishes The dust is often out of handAnd should I write my name uponThe coffee table and night standIt will be seen when morning dawns. But dishes, oh the dishes mustBe kept up or the sink will beFoul with spoons, forks, plates and cupsAll left to soak too...

. The Four Seasons . Spring I Amidst the cloudless sky and crimson dawn Comes bursting forth the bluebird’s orange breast, Whose shadow dances o’er the dewy lawn On having found last February’s nest; There he releases from his swollen chest A song to which the jay, the wren, the...

. A Ceiling Fan's Life (Is Like a Man's) On wintry days, it rarely spins Except when mopped floors need to dry. Its mission, once December's in, Is just to idly hang on high And watch us squabble, cackle, cry In earthy dramas' peace and strife. This is the childhood...

. Spring’s Unfolding View ---after Dylan Thomas’ “The force that through the green fuse drives flower” The force that through the green fuse drives the flower drives me new,that blasts the roots of trees, likewise is my destroyer too;and I am dumb to tell the crooked rose this, as are...

. Spring Snow Tyrant Winter reaches Beyond its frozen tomb, Dares cast its icy mantle On bud and crocus-bloom. Long it reigned unchallenged In dark and cold and ice; Thwarted now, it hurls back Last volleys as it flies. Spent, it fails to muster Its once-destroying blast; Failing snows fall...

. Canyon I’m traveling on a road down which I’m cast, a road that I am fitted for, no doubt, since I can see in arid skies white buffaloes, and humpbacks breaching from basaltic dirt. And too I can imagine I’m a fossil, straining my scapulas to almost breaking to...

. Happy Like Winnie the Pooh If I could be happy like Winnie the Pooh, Just thinking of good things in all that I do. I’d just want some honey—a big honey pot— I’d pay all my money, give all that I’ve got. With love for my friends and with...

. The Restoration ---for SJB Words sometimes fail. How best explainThat life can seem eternal rain?That though friends care they cannot seeOr grasp this wilderness of pain? Is this in truth how life must be?This drowning in a silent sea?This rack and screw, this raw negationWhich threatens hope and sanity?...

. Burning the Pieta Thoughts After Viewing Public Cremations at the Pashupatinath Temple Complex in Kathmandu, Nepal ---for Alok With tears wash fallen feet which once had stood To face a fated life with wonder and desire. Inhale the smoke and ash of flesh and wood; Breathe in the acrid...

. Bohème Opera in a bare and frigid room As winter winds were sweeping, like a broom, Raised an enthusiasm, understood As contrast to the landscape. Every plume Of horizontal snow blew toward the wood, Lifting fine sparkling sprays across each flume. Rodolfo, Mimi still awaited doom, Different for each....

. How Many Homes? ---January 2025 Los Angeles wildfires Twelve thousand lost, from stricken memories more Schools, churches, meeting places, shops and homes Of residents and others moved away, Bereaved of yesterday disastrously. The concrete evidence that life was lived In cool or agonizing passageways Lies toxic waste in space...

. Winter Song Hymen, Venus, Graces three, _save me lest I wither like some sap-sucked blasted tree; Hymen, Venus, Graces three, come and set my soul-song free: _come, come here, come hither. Hymen, Venus, Graces three, _save me lest I wither. . . Triolet I waited long to meet you,...

. Another Old Myth The Ancient One warned Noah's doom was near. Since men possessed with greed kept spilling blood, That cataclysmic rain would soon appear. So Noah built an ark before the flood. No matter now that temperatures still rise Or icy rivers melt, leave basins bare; That forest...

. Equinox Blues Welcome to spring! The last snow may be past,_and bright blue frames the parting clouds.The sun rides longer in the sky, at last,_than lost to night’s slow–ebbing shrouds. The weather’s clearing but, alas, not warming;_light sparkles on our coldest daysince winter last. No honeybees are swarming:_they’re told,...

. My Backyard  . The Campfire Elisha loves to build a fire; His dog is near, she loves to watch For birds that she will try to catch. They each pursue their own desire--- One by her leaps, one with a match. . The Dog House The dog house over...

. The Tundra Swan Its full and light and interfolding feathers __Number ten thousand plus, No wonder that the tundra swan out-weathers __With less than little fuss __The brisk Antarctic breeze, Yet half of them are quite superfluous. __Dear swan, I ask you please __To lend some excess down To...

. I Failed I failed so dramatically most early days I failed horribly in most critical ways I failed to use schooling at each different age I failed in the waste of my talents each stage I failed with some friendships in whole or in part I failed big time...

. Reflections on a Visit to Saint Augustine With each step up the old Castillo wall I pray The hurricane will detour east past Grand Bahama. If windborne flooding comes, it can’t be held at bay--- St. Augustine has only minimal protection: The remnants of its wall won’t hold off...

. Guitar music for "Sheebag Sheemore" performed by Jeff Eardley. . The Session Monday at the Shamrock Inn, So, the session does begin, Rosin up the fiddle’s bow, Get in tune and off we go. Pipes and flutes and mandolin, More musicians coming in, Carolan alive once more, As we...

. St. Patrick’s Day, 2025 While swathed in swirls of green, some raise a glass Of dark elixir topped with sheeny cream. Some twirl through Derry streets and Kerry grass In dreams ablaze with leprechauns that beam With larks as lilting harps spill silver tunes Of mountain thyme with shivers...

. A Summer Evening The sky begins to cloak its face, Removing every streak of red. Above, two weary flyers trace The way back to their bough-held bed. A boy, awash with joy, returns Soil-vested from a football field. To celebrate the victory earned, He swaggers with his pride revealed....

. A Fisherman’s Life The fronds of the palm trees sway in the breeze. A lone tiny boat is bounced by the seas. The sunset is orange, reflection is brown. The sailboat is cruising, searching for ground. Its sails are not open; winds aren't enough. It turns to the land...

. Cherry Tree One summer day not long ago a man planted a tree, With tender love and patience he invested energy. He poured his hope and faith into the little budding leaves, For by this time next year he thought that apples he would eat. But then the year...

. Pumpkin Spice The scent of Autumn lingers in the air With hints of ginger, cinnamon, and clove; At 42nd Street and Herald Square, On 8th Street, Bleecker, Christopher, and Grove--- Each crowded sidewalk, every crosswalk where New Yorkers sip their pumpkin latte dreams. The years run back to homemade...

. Of Elizabeth Bishop Ms. Bishop is one able–eyed observer;her vision is acute, that’s plain to see.Staring at her, I doubt I could unnerve her,though from the page she sometimes unnerves me.The variations she can ring on linesthat reach their end in (word, not fact!) “disaster,”wherein her art so eminently...

. An Ode to a Hymn “Like aught that for its grace may be Dear, and yet dearer for its mystery” ---Percy Shelley in “Hymn to Intellectual Beauty” Cathedral with its prayer sings homily _About an ancient mystery, _What is this ancient mystery! Oh God, are you in truth my...

. Nishijin Weaving In the tranquil heartThere is no scattering ofBlossoms once gathered. ―Satomura Jōha, master of linked verse The shining fabrics of nobilityDemand the planning of a pattern first.The weaver trusts to instinct in design,And looks ahead to twenty tedious tasks,Each specialized. There is humilityIn knowing all and delegating...

. Gossiping Hinges Some think we hinges only squeak __because we seek __an oily drop __to make us stop, but hinges gossip day and night, __our message, quite __distinctive. We, __with raucous glee, say 'hi' to hinges down the street __we'd like to meet, __or squawk a song __for sing-a-long....

. A Token of Espousal Sister Elisabetta Dardinelli Speaks Concerning the Token of Espousalof Saint Catherine de’ Ricci (1522-1590) Dixit mihi Dominus meus: Ne timeas, filia: Non rapiet tequisquam de manu mea. My Lord said to me: Be not afraid, daughter; no one willtake you from My hand.  —Carmelite Breviary...

. Ode to the Sun . I Oh first and longest-lasting of my friends, Helen Aurelia, how can I express Through this guitar o’er which my finger bends, And these fine words, each wanting in finesse, The warmth with which you lovingly caress My frail and frigid form upon the...

. Ashes Before the Lenten ashes fade and thin, I might remind myself of those regrets More earnest than a taste for sweets Or bad TV and that my conscience meets With frightening ease at times far greater sin. I might recall the truth the sign abets: The cross traced...

. Seeing the Forest Listen to the rustle of the foliage in the forest, _And note the motes of pollen floating there; Muscle headlong through the brush and never feel embarrassed _If you get whiplashed on your derriѐre. Spurs are meant to drive you on to where your eyes are...

. The Greatest Time of Fatherhood I know that I’m supposed to say The finest time is now—today. And with all their accomplishments, That would indeed make lots of sense. And yet the greatest time of all To me was back when they were small— With boundless joy they would...

. A Brief Return Hey, little girl. I’ve come to check on you;To hear your voice, to see your face anew.Can it be true? Has it been seven years?You’ve grown up nicely since I went away.I’m proud to see you on your Wedding Day---This day on which you sought me...

. Snapshot It's morning and you rise. You shake your hairAnd stretch yourself a bit, your elbows high,Your blue night gown illuminated byA slant of light that smolders in the air. I want to keep you here just as you are---Your smiling face and hair confused just so,Your two bare...

. Winter at the Pond I scan the pond. Young birches standing there Have given up their leaves. I set my gaze On trees in water and on trees in air, Where all is peace, with nothing to amaze. The cold, harassing breeze has dropped away. Late sun comes through...

. The Vice Worse than the addiction of a smoker, And harder to get over than cocaine, More drawing than to gamblers their poker Is a vice that never ends the game. It’s worse than the attraction of a hooker And easier to fall into its claws. If Death came...