Signs of Springtime

now the sun rides
higher in the skies,
days get longer 
and warmer.

leaves sprout on 
bare branches.
grass begins to 
green and grow,


flower departments,
have summer flowers,
as if to show us 
what to expect.

we attended a
two-year old's 
birthday party.

ice cream all over
his face, loving it!


then his first bicycle.


legs too short to 
reach the ground,
so his dad had to
push the bike.

a tired dad stopped
pushing, and a young 
voice chirped "again!"

signs of springtime!

Murano Side Street

near Venice is 
this island

(i'm pleased that
we could go)


glass masters
sell small treasures
in busy storefronts.

an alert salesman
invited us to a
hidden gallery.

murano's secret wonders,
which we loved,

and something about
our appreciation
of these treasures
fed something in him,
and made him happy.


this sidestreet seemed 
to welcome and i had
to stop and look.

and i saw nothing
that was beautiful,
unless i tilted my 
head a certain way.

do as i did,
and tilt your head.
it was so worth it.
just tilt your head.


Behind St Marks

seen from a different angle, 
things will not look the same. 

differences grow on you, 
they are interesting.
 
you might not 
recognise the place, 

though it has been here 
for hundreds of years, 
just like this.

if we don't learn to see 
things as if they are fresh, 
we'll just feel stale, 
like the world 
is a boring place.

but it isn't a boring place. 
if we have our eyes open, 
moving forward, 
uncertain what that means 
or where we'll get to.

someplace might be 
famous or infamous,

we might never know
especially if we don't 
recognize somebody 
else's point of view. 

Something Bright

Something Bright

i think i would not try
to eat something so
unfamiliar, maybe
toxic, maybe lethal,

unless i saw 
something else
(preferably someone)
eat it first,
and walk away
unharmed.


but don't they
look so good?

maybe you'd like
to try some and
maybe i could
watch you not die.


we could rethink
and have a
second thought.

how would i know
what you died from?
probably not from 
milk and cookies.


some days, it seems,
we have a little 
too much excitement.

if that's not enough, 
we can make 
something up.

Caribbean Windmill

everywhere we go
there are surprises,

if we are watchful,
ready and able
to see our world,

beauty in places 
where we walk.
beauty of 
things we see


a wind mill on
a caribbean island,

towering over
everything around,

windmill tower's 
made of stone, 
standing on high ground.


a wonder in its way,
wonders all day long.

always sights to see,
always words to say,

the sun is going to
shine for her,
every single day!

More Yellow Roses

More Yellow Roses

yellow roses
are all about
friendship,

and that
there's nothing
more to say.


some people feel 
a slap in the face.

yellow roses may
be a disgrace,


friendship is fine 
leave your ego behind.

an offer of friendship:
no trivial thing,

in times of pandemic,
it's so easy to say
it with flowers


yellow roses
are all about
friendship,

and that
there's nothing
more to say.

Venetian Mansions

mansions rising 
out of murky waters, 
ocean and not ocean, 
foul smelling evil swamp, 

barrier to barbarians, 
imperfect refuge, 
historical home, 

where little comfort exists, 
narrow canals slice through 
each neighborhood, 

navigated by small boats, 
some powered by solitary men, 
gliding over the brown waters, 

very beautiful in it's way, 
a refuge for desperate people, 
in a desperate day. 

beauty is in our eyes, 
our minds create a vision 
and so it is beautiful. 

old architecture is interesting, 
details from bygone mansions,
 
changed in our foolish minds, 
until we see a beautiful place, 
a beautiful sewer and 
we ignore the memories 
of those evil odors. 

we should be grateful 
for our imperfect memories.

Bright Yellow

Bright Yellow

after dark icy winter,
crocuses appear,

pushing silently up
through wet mud.

promising warmth,
long summer days.

so many promises,
if we believe the signs!


we often do,
we like signs,

things to help us 
with vague futures,

a feeling of surety,
though surety is
only an illusion,

another foolish
thing for us to
believe in.

we are only,
after all is said,
merely human.




Sunshine and Shadow

a contrast in costume,
they walk in shadow.

shade is all around
on such a sunny day.

its hard to decide,
where the edges are,
with the sun so bright,

and the shadows not 
quite midnight dark.


white plastered 
buildings rise up 
from unimaginably clean 
mikonos streets,

as tourists stroll
purposelessly by.

the sky is always
so important;

there must be
a little detail there,
if possible.


people in shadow,
so hard to see,
with pure whitewalls,
the sky about right.

but they are incidental,
in a place with ancient 
stories, long forgotten.


carve your 
stories in stone, 
then you'll be 
all alone, 
and nobody 
will believe 
you anyways.

but those white 
city walls,
before they all fall,
suggest sweet stories
we can't understand.


a contrast in costume,
they walk in shadow.

shade is all around
on such a sunny day.

its hard to decide,
where the edges are,
with the sun so bright,

and the shadows not 
quite midnight dark.

Spring Seawall

drifting along
a beautiful
seawall on
an island,

they have
no agenda,
nor purpose.

nothing's
important
on a day 
like this.


quarried stone
holds back waves,

waves breaking
unnaturally
on hard stone.

make no mistake;
any rock weathers
on these edges.

some last longer
than others. 
 
these stones last 
longer than we do.


for us the people 
are always the story.

and here, the story 
is that the people
do not seem so 
very important.

not much going on,
no real dramas
are unfolding.


the drama here
is all unseen,
and unseeable,
or maybe 
the drama is
the landscape.