Dials and Bells

Dials and Bells

looking up skywards
   we can't fail to see

      dials and bells
      on a tower face


   marking time
sounding alarms

   as our lives tick by
chimes ringing out


      we can yell
   we can scream
whisper or shout

dials mark time
   in a visual way


      but now we find
   we may not know
   or even understand


      what time is
or how it flows


   what really matters 
with the time we have
      is how we grow
and what we grow into

Amphorae

wine bottles
      seem so small

   after you have 
seen amphorae.


civilization is such 
      a big surprise.

all it takes to tame
   troupes of
frantic monkeys 

is sufficient alcohol.


   amphorae do look 
interesting in a way.

cool shapes.

(comforting somehow)

frantic monkeys do
      love their comfort.


fear the pandemic,
   it can damage 
our feeble brains.

      already we are
woefully underpowered.

save my cpu!

Spring by the Lake

the water's cold
   although the 
      ice is gone.

   we know icy water 
from almost before 
      we were young .

   stick your toes
in springtime's 
      chilly water. 

your toes went in
      to the ankle;
you know cold water
for long as you live.


      deep chill, 
      down deep
to where light fades

into featureless
      blurry shadow

      diffuse light
seems to come
from every place.


interesting days,
      we still survive:

      icy weather,
   cold spring water
chills our toddler toes.

Share the Road

tiny trucks deliver
to tiny shops,

as if there was
room on roads.


pedestrians
learn quickly.

out of the way!


(no suitable
translation
springs to mind.)

everyone moves
aside, quickly.

tiny trucks
go slowly by.


white-painted 
roads in a 
beautiful place.

tiny trucks leave
no dirty tracks
on the streets.


shops sell a few
amazing things:
exquisite art,

a bowl: carved
of ancient olive,
grown thousands
of years ago.

cool shade is
an under-rated
blessing.

just stay cool!

Remembering the Fallen

crushed and broken, 
   somehow beautiful,
its function passed.

providing nutrients
today, and on into
   tomorrow and
      tomorrow.

this maple leaf
   will one day
   be forgotten
and so will i.

my fathers do not
   stand tall 
      anymore.

   though, in their
day, they struggled
sometimes bravely
      such is life
   and living.

   something was
beautiful, although
   no memories
      remain.

      a time shall
surely come, when
i am nothing more:
   a fuzzy memory, 
and someone may
be remembering
      the fallen.

Feral Flowers

Feral Flowers

neglected,
they suffer.
plum blossoms:
wonderful
this spring.
we hope
for fruit
this fall,
something
amazing

if it
were mine,
i’d want
to prune it.
something
promoting
healthy growth,
many flowers,
much fruit

water,
by bucketfuls.
domesticated
life needs
love and care.
wild things
don’t get
deserved love
no care

Beams in a Bridge

Beams in a Bridge

solid as
my dreams,
it crosses
abruptly,
never falling
in a creek,
where sometimes
fish
might swim

fat fish,
too strange,
their flesh.
again i’m
disappointed
and i
disappoint.
i will not
eat those
freaky fish

rent a kayak,
paddle on
a board,
green water,
miracle to see.

her eyes say,
‘love but
don’t hurt me’,
“my father’s
six foot six”.
i smile,
because
i know
they’ll never
bury me

green water,
the most
beautiful lake,
“scatter
my ashes
in the
green lake,
beside
the creek”
and that
bridge will
never fall

Grapes in the Garden

Grapes in the Garden

angels,
on assignment,
maybe,
they touch her
somewhere
that you
cannot see

prepare
to be amazed,
again
(each spring,
it’s come
around
just like
it’s always
done before)

angels,
on assignment,
maybe,
they touch her
somewhere
that you
cannot see

snowdrops,
crocuses,
daffodils
then
hyacinths bloom,
a race to
sunlight,
a joy to
the soul

angels,
on assignment,
maybe,
they touch her
somewhere
that you
cannot see

Red Bellied Thrush

and when she
ran away to sea,
we didn’t know
when she returned,
if we would
recognize her
as the girl
she used to be

we don’t give
the answers,
the questions,
we don’t
even know.
everything
is changing,
our time
is fast
and then
our time
is slow

and when she
ran away to sea,
we didn’t know
when she returned,
if we would
recognize her
as the girl
she used to be

sometimes
we want
something,
it looks
so good,
we cannot
stand it,
we can’t wait,
or so we say,
but time
has other
notions,
it doesn’t
work that way

and when she
ran away to sea,
we didn’t know
when she returned,
if we would
recognize her
as the girl
she used to be

Morning Sun

white picket
fences restrain
a neighborhood;
Key West
hosts so many
sweet old homes,
and trees
spread out
their roots
and branches,
lessons we
can learn,
to take life
as we find it,
reach out
and grow

how do we
understand
things we don’t
even want,
people we don’t
know or
care about,
white paint
on rotten wood,
some things
won’t stand up
on their own,
we sometimes
need to grow

white picket
fences sometimes
need repair;
borders
without friendships
grow into
hostile walls,
though we
require friends,
affection
and approval,
bridges to
other people
have no
fence posts