LIFE TRAVELS

Traveling for so many days

435 bridges and 234 tunnels

Losing landmarks and diverting to side excursions

A lavish description of arriving somewhere

After getting lost

Like newlyweds entering their first house

Whatever the sizable differences are 

They can be traced to algorithms

Like sentences they have to learn because they are new

After awhile they can talk and understand

The end is an accomplishment

Carried by patience and time.

They are foreign to each other

Like a blinding snowstorm before beginning of summer

Afterwards seasons go uninterrupted, seem seamless

Though there are days of grief

Some days of longing, others of mirth

Ambiguity eases into familiar themes

They arrive to a place they understand

Life changes gradually into bliss

Remembering words of Aristotle

We yearn to reach the good at the end.

Holy Day


The day is so quiet

The pickup truck is still parked 

When it drives over the street bump

You hear deafening sounds of tires, metals and pieces thrown in disarray as if

A house is breaking

No sirens, no cars speeding to scenes of accident

Or hurrying to help someone with medical emergency

I open a window, see a young boy riding haphazardly his bicycle, oblivious of cars driving by

I hear the birds singing,

I hear their love calls

Today is Sabbath Day

In the story of creation, 6 days are good days 

The seventh day is a holy day

I see an elderly woman with her 2 dogs returning from her walk 

She starts to be forgetful

But she remembers her way back home

She is so amiable in her forgetfulness

She makes any day holy.

Retreat

Sitting by a creek inside a forest

Your notebooks spread out

Over stones and ferns

Sounds of tiny waterfalls accompany your thoughts

The dimension of your existence opens before you

Oneness of spirit, wholeness one song.

On the porch, one day

Someone leaves a small heart-shape  wood carving,

Another day, a sketch of fiddleheads

Or a haiku

Kindness from unknown neighbors

Who will later introduced themselves

Retreat in the woods

Finding new friends threaded with similar

Attitude of solitariness

Learning how to be present

In the moment, to attend

Slowing of time

A time to feel and touch the earth again

With its ecstasy and pain.

Moments

Moments move our emotions, our life

How can I move like time

I am a humble hummingbird

Hovering over flowers until I am out breath

There is wisdom in the stones I will not know

Or a camaraderie with bees I will not experience

Where can I go my friend to touch the warmth of time

Perhaps I can find a child who will want a lullaby

My wings can sing her a song.

Games We Play

I have to learn about cricket

A refrain I have to learn one day

The English game popular in many countries

Unlike planting and harvesting aubergine

And what one can accomplish with dyes is phenomenal

The colors are so vivid

Very easy to understand and compose

That’s how the process of learning got started

I have now a beginner’s knowledge

An individuality and growth

I am more sensible, like learning 

How to use the proper condiments in cooking

Knowledge comes in circles and one can chain them

Not exactly a necklace but can be a bracelet

Very appropriate to wear.

To amuse myself sometimes I create new words and definitions

That’s not allowed in cricket.

Somewhere an owl is sleeping

In a tree in a nearby mountain.

I can’t explain everything

Though may not thrill everyone

But nestled between them is the word, wonderful.

Cul-de-sac

A pause

in his walk to glance

backwards

the curve in the road

hides who is following him

shadows bend like light around the sun

he resumes walking, 

whistling with every step

the headache recedes 

as he approaches the end of the road

he smiles when he hears sound of the ocean

he sits on a log on the sandy beach

watches the waves, the earth’s breathing

imagining God enjoying the sight

before the creation of man.

CHOICES

“Joy like a river in her soul”, words of a young boy

Sharing his mother’s state of being. 

A town nestled next to a river

How does one tear down and build anew?

River dredging begins Flood Control Master Plan.

Town awakens, sounds of bulldozers and cranes, 

People wearing helmets working

Design to demolish, preserve, develop, convert

Empty complexes, aging structures, dormant land 

Long deliberations in what the town needs:

Hotels, shops, restaurants, or something abstract

Community park in summer turns flood diversion space in winter.

Building a promenade on riverfront, 

Passageway along railroad tracks,

Connecting Vine Trail, continuity without impediments

Collaboration with artists and role of the arts,

A time for coffee and twisted cinnamon rolls.

One accent, the Passages, a segment of passageway 

Once a haven for graffiti’s passion and restlessness

Now a channel for artistic expressions,

Vivid, vibrant, living project

Come, look, linger, get involve.

Walking home I hum a Dave Brubeck’s tune

I prepare smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwich, 

A bowl of peach yogurt and blackberries for lunch.

I take my time. I do not eat with haste.

Like town dreamers, like my friends

I, too, have choices and concerns

Should I join the frenzy of high technology

Pulsing reminders of “constantly possible productive moments”

Or walk with artists and pilgrims in shared humanity

Learn value of life, bear the task, persevere?

In my solitary walk, my mind can’t remain still

How will the young boy paint the river?

Let image follow imagination like spells of delight

Art’s idea whispers, shouts, bends then leaps to clarity

A journey of praise of what one truly loves.

In art and life, one will leave one day, the other stays.

I will write my praise.