Friday, September 30, 2011


He feels the terrible urgency of aging,
a foreboding, a sense of something
left unaccomplished
which constantly
claws at his thoughts when he should be
enjoying what life he has left.
It's a cautioning
that the time allotted him to find
an answer, to seek fulfillment,
is escaping him.
What has he done with
his life to merit existence on this orb,
to warrant another sunrise,
another soft rainfall?
Such questions go without answer.


Saturday, September 24, 2011

running free

The old dog drags his tired

body into his familiar curl beside

my chair, sighs heavily and enters

once again that dream where

he runs carefree and painlessly

through the sweet meadow grass,

a meadow known only to him and the

suddenly-young man following.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

a brisk wind

There's a brisk October
wind sweeping the ochre
and rust farm fields today,
although the calendar
shows it's mid-September.
That late summer hazy
that had hung above us
for weeks now, warm
and comforting, takes up
with the blustery wind and
is migrating with the early
departures of waterfowl
and summer vacationers.
The fragrance of burning
fields, pungent but yet
somehow sweet-smelling, and
mildly memory-provoking,
charges the senses as it weaves
among the parched, plucked
corn stalks, while from a
distant corner of the field
an animated scarecrow,
clad in shredded polyester,
flags a ride with the wind.
It too seems to sense time
calls for it to move along.


the spring creek

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

of night rain

humid night
each swell of the curtains
brings the scent of rain


midnight rain . . .
the leisurely flow
of my dreams


Friday, September 2, 2011

cottonwood fluff

cottonwood fluff
drifting to earth . . .
my gentle dream


summer sprinklers –
how quickly damselflies


father's photo –
nearly as diminished
as my memories