April 27, 2025
They came to visit and Eliza and I got to play.  She continues to author poems and she is memorizing.  She recited The Owl and the Pussycat to her mother the other day, and today as her Poppa recited Robert Frost she showed me that her socks are sealions that like to sleep on a pillow.  


Through years of not speaking, I hungrily read through your poems.

Swallowing them whole, gasping for air.


Someone I don't have to regret loving is what I am gasping for.

Someone I don't have to protect my heart from.


Then this morning I devoured a ham, cheese and mushroom omelet.

A love as  simple as that. 


Turtles aren't really birds, but I will count them today.

Upon the log, upon the tree destroyed by winter's wind.


Mergansers play like school yard buds.

White flashing wings skimming the edge.


Don't know how to write about addiction, although I know

it's the door to the end of the quest.


To love as simply as the making of eggs

And letting go of the compulsion that pains.

April 27, 2024

A year ago we did this.

Ferry Ride

 

Maybe it’s the vibration

that soothes my soul

this ferry boat on a sunny afternoon.

It’s April and windy

the sun begins to slowly fall

back down behind the land.

The water sparkles in large reflections.

 

I may have seen a large fish, a whale

a hundred feet from the boat

while we were moving east.

I could not be sure.

Once we turned towards the west

too much sparkle blinded me.

 

Now cloud coverage removes

the blue.   Gentle slate grey waves take over.

This trip has been summer, spring and winter.

The coast is rocky

covered in pine and spruce

The entire distance

has been sprinkled with

tiny uninhabited rocks of islands.

 

The ferry is loud but comforting

out on that blue, out on that roll,

out in the sea air sticking to my face,

out on the gentle water that speaks louder

to me than anyone’s kind words,

I am at peace.




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