The Art of Farewell

Goodbye my friend

sail on

the sea awaits you

words without end

Tide and Consequences

Low tide, 

59 degrees 

fog lines the hills

a plane overhead, 

sounds like distant thunder

I’m walking behind

a woman in red running 

mild breeze shy on my neck,

kayakers riding towards the ocean

I pass an empty bench

an invitation, a luxury

I’m too old

to sit down

Mrs. Abstract will find me frozen

I have other ideas

like loose leaves in my notebook

come, 

let’s ride the tide

let’s go upstream

come.

Morning Walk

58, cloudy, low tide

a woman and her daughter run

a dog runs with a red ball in his mouth 

he drops intermittently to keep up with his master 

A grandma pushes a stroller

two other children walking and talking

vultures hoover, ducks hurry on the river

My morning walk to the river

find excitement in the moment

experience the goodness of the earth

How & Why

thinning darkness

voices rising, footsteps of children

soul of a new day

start a work,

a particular work

to find a worthy self

before a final stage

there is a longing

when work is done

life is still incomplete

seeking until the end

doing and giving

the highest region of life

Is it a messy tangle

or a real knot?

She disappears in the crowd.

note: Books I finished reading: The Present Alone Is Our Happiness by Pierre Hadot.

The book I am currently reading: Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Metaphors in Idleness

Sometimes you want to spend a day to idleness

Some people are not for greatness

You have to know which one to elevate, which one to endure

To choose one character is an act of courage

Dancing when you should be praying

When procrastination awakes doubt enters

You fast while in the temple of Weeping Women

To cleanse yourself

Tomorrow morning, early, you will visit the waterfalls

And enter the cave behind the falling waters

A shelter for you till beauty

And strength thread in your consciousness:

An armadillo waking

An astonishing reflection in its eyes

note: photos are from my wlak to the river on Thursday. The day is sunny and warm. Beautiful day to go out .

Sunny Day

63 degrees, sunny, the tide is going upstream

Maybe 

the scope of your vision is narrow,

the field is wide, memory may falter,

movement, persistence, diminishes

distance between remembering,

words will come in baskets

no barren day or empty life

even dreams have voices

do not cease 

to take care of yourself

Rise, go, where nature lives.

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.

Wet and Dry

Today was a very sad for our country. An “insurrection” breached the U.S. Capitol which was eventually repulsed.

We had a very good rain On Monday. Yesterday I walked to the river. It rained again today.

Last few weeks I watched chess tournaments on line. During the last a few days I started to play chess with a friend. 

I have a hard time writing poetry recently.

A Day in the Life of

Though I will miss my lunch

I am not hungry to eat yet

I am exuberantly eager to walk to the river

I don’t want to confess I want to see her again 

A woman who walks with a yellow parasol

I do not feel embarrassed I do not speak her language

I feel sad for not learning the language when I was young.

Today is a different day

Everyone wishes “a somewhere to be”

The day when the lockdown begins

The day that nobody wants.

I want focus my attention to the pathway

Lined by sycamore, birch, maple and other trees I can not name

I am still astonished by soft touches of leaves falling on my head

And hearing crackling sound of leaves that I walk on 

A day of circumstances

One blue heron and 4 egrets gathered on the riverbank

All looking at the river

Two sea otters playing diverts also my attention 

Their heads bobbing up and under the water surface

I change my attention to the birds

They also sense my new interest

I experience the birds play of teasing

Two egrets fly away chasing each other.

Then comes a paddle boarder in the river

He bends down pulling back his paddle

Propelling himself down the river

Stands up, bends and paddles on the left

Propels himself forward again

Downstream he will turn around before he is swallowed by the sea

Paddles back to where he starts his day

Robust and happy for his accomplishment

The day may not be of bewilderment

But it is a day of sun but without rain

I’m happy to take photographs and write a poem

About how we live in a worried world

A reality we can change with our untapped power.

note: The book I just finished reading: Dirt by William Buford. Entertaining, funny, French way of cooking. Wonderful.

My Saturday Walk to the River