Even In This Condition

A holiday

at dawn 

I will plant a word

water it like a tree

one day

the forest will sing

I will read 

the written signatures

on the tree trunks

They will tell 

the ages of the passerby’s

they are imperceptible 

to storms and lightnings

raccoons and squirrels talk

their life stories

You can invite your friends

and listen to the songs

have some drinks and dance

It will not be one time

even in our condition.

We meet across

a giant chessboard in the plaza

We glance at each other 

I touch a piece

you move a pawn

a knight pirouettes

a bishop lifts

a game continues

a brilliant move, a clatter

then saving graces

movements in 64 squares

thousands and thousands

permutations, strategies and idea

subtle and suggestive

time enters, a heart beats faster

we look at each other’s eyes

Dazzle of butterflies and corals

the tree grows, a forest

of climate changes

Is this what love is?

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Walking

your eye catches 

light’s reflection on a spider web

a hammock hanging between 

a tree and fence

neurons interlaced to strengthen memory

a bridge for retrieval and deep learning

atoms, stars, horrors 

of war, how to be a shepherd

the interlacing of flowers, 

spices and herbs in a garden

flowers complementing appearances

and passion

plants to engender savory taste and texture

a simple life prepared a table of elegance

you resume walking

each step echoes

music of Beethoven, imaginative spark of 

Virginia Wolff’s stream of consciousness

to express  an exhilarating day.

The Fall

Walking to the river

I met many women walkers today

in twos, in threes

walking a dog,

walking a stroller

walking with a walker

I heard conversations 

words I could not understand

I passed by an adult retirement home

glanced at people playing bocce

The sun was higher now

almost home

In crossing a street

my shoe stubbed the edge,

Like a lightning, I hydroplaned

on a concrete walkway, 

For a moment I could not believe

it happened

large bruises on my knees, 

palms of my hand

my stick laying in front of me, 

my eyeglasses, intact

my bones, none were broken

A car stopped,

a lady driver got out, offered  

to help me. I thanked her

I stood up on my own.

I arrived home to attend 

to my wounds.

I was full of gratitude.

An extraordinary day

Can you see the blackbird?

The books I am currently reading: Middlemarch by George Eliot and The Artist’s Journey by Marcia Shaver.

The Art of Farewell

Goodbye my friend

sail on

the sea awaits you

words without end

Abandoned Grocery Cart

Jammed with the rocks at the riverbank

Submerged in water at high tide

Saved by a fisherman brought inland

Now you are with flowers along the walkway

Which journey will I find you again?

You can’t venture on your own.

Will you vanish somewhere

Or drift into oblivion

What will happen if Kierkegaard

or Salvador Dali find you?

I don’t think I will be dancing in strawberry field

I may write about absurdity of abandoned grocery carts.

Perhaps some ideas are astonishing

We think of wild things

Like kissing at the middle of storm

I will not be writing in Russian.

note: The book I am reading: Either/Or by Elif Batuman.

A Morning Walk

The walkers rest

The vulture hovers

The woman in red is nowhere

I find a penny for your thoughts

Present Moment

How often do we return to a place of enchantment

How do we “recognize the infinite value of every moment”

Rilke says, we desperately try to hold these moments in our hands

Today in my walk I found 12 cents of coins on the ground

Place them among the fowers

A moment of happiness

Not because of the new found wealth

It completes the wholeness of the universe

A new day

The woman in red returns

Coins among the flowers

Rain drops from last night

A snail wandering