from family debris to space debris

her eyes looked into mine 

what was the path from family debris to space debris

I pondered and laughed inside

there were no science fairs or encouraging parents

my guinea pigs and hamsters ministered to my dreams

such as they were

dust bunnies, too.

what a curious question she was asking

the same probing one I might ask, 

I liked this woman, I would like to see her again. 

there must be truth somewhere in all this debris,

these clouded family stories fabricated to oppress,

no, there were not intentions, just ignorance and pain.

isn't life a mysterious dark cloud into which the 

lost drift, seemingly with no direction, but mine,

mine was to find truth somewhere

and in the end,

protecting those we love from debris,

whether the eyes of the most powerful space telescopes 

or our eyes gazing up to the stars.

The joy of being together, the sorrow of saying good-bye

building snowmen and catching iron filings,

a magnet suspended from a string

the blackberry branch bending 

gracefully towards the water.

I am awakened, so many times,

to hold her hand, bathed in a purple

hue, the sound of waves.  

Nana and Grandpa Tom, Opa and Mimi,

four is barely enough for this Princess

her hair blowing in the icy wind,

Bella straining at the leash as she

shuffles along in flowered rain boots,

and then, she is gone, the house echoes

of silence, colorful toys put away, 

joy has left us and I feel an ache

in my heart, the sorrow of saying

good-bye.

Happy Birthday, Daniel!

 

That day, he was happy, reaching for the sky,

or maybe it was that moment that the camera caught his smile.

It could have been that he was too busy to smile a moment ago,

and a moment later, angry that a stick had fallen from his hand.

And today, flying down impossibly steep hills on silver skis,

he must be smiling underneath that helmet, the body knows its own

happiness, after all, and later yet, a glass raised, dancing under

a glittering light, he smiles yet again.

My wish for Daniel is to have many smiles.

A bookmark in time

When the shelves are overflowing,

and the suitcase too heavy, he slid a bookmark

into his shirt pocket, the one with the plastic pocket

protector, the ball point pen slightly bulging from

his smooth, rather slender, frame.    

Paris, Budapest, Hanoi, but particularly Neuchatel

where he remembered the stories of the elephants

who arrived annually with the circus;

Local children stood entranced at the lake shore

as the elephants romped in the lake, spraying

each other and the children, droplets sparkling

in the afternoon sun.

passing time

is this what we do to pass time when

our hair is bobbed in grey, some of us 

hunched over a keyboard, some still erect

and at task

even when the tempo is "rock n roll"

the music shuffles, one can hear the suede

brush against the stage with each change

 of key signature

what is our key signature these days, having 

gone from major to minor, and our volume

has diminished from forte to piannissimo

we creep about life, wondering what to do 

with ourselves as we are busy avoiding the

steady stare of Death.

I'll have a MethaneSAT margarita

I'd have a MethaneSAT margarita except 

I'm the designated driver, my companion is 

looking suitably and happily sloshed, 

I'm sure the drink was delicious, 

Is this the best we can do

Is this the best we can do

dragging away those who dream

of freedom, who grieve the one who 

fought for them,  who suffered, 

is this the way it is

humanity is not humane, be it the Russians

the Americans, those who slaughter in Gaza

in the name of freedom, or their rights, 

is this the best we humans can do

to hold this man by his arms, swinging his 

body in that gentle rock that says, "

You have nor rights, nor speech, 

nor freedom of movement, your feet

will only touch the ground when you 

understand this truth

this is the best we can do.