I Hope the Encore

The dear young lady's life
began when you sparked
the Big Bang
and the makings of her being
were forged inside stars
and what seems to me
an eternity
of evolution before
her every feature became
to my eyes perfection
and for a blink of my eyes
the creation of star dust
returns to star dust
I hope the encore
is yet to come
else next time
ask me
when enough is enough
and when time to stop
when it is
as good
as it gets.

Grace

Nature teaches
us grace
when we open
our eyes
and just look
at what is
that needs not us
flowers and trees
rocks and streams
clouds and sunlight
and the ebb and flow
of the ocean surf
needs us not
yet our need
to be part
of it all
is enough.

Matters of My Heart

The matters of my heart
began with that first breath
or before
and all around me
everyone
and everything
shaped my feelings
formed my emotions
with every little action
and reaction
until my mind
filling with reason
inside my head
was
and is moved
by all that are now
matters of
my
heart.

Her Memories Were Many

Her memories were many
stored inside her head
a few even occupied
hidden places
the scar on the knee
from childhood
the scar on the heart
imagined
but now
thought real.

The Apple of Your Eye

The apple of your eye
your pupil grows
taking me in
yet I see myself
like a tiny puppet
reflected for me
only to see
and you call me
the apple of your eye
I hope precious
to you
and for only me
the puppet
to see.

Eyes That Listen

As you stare at a star
if that star is still a star
then as long as you stare
you have made a connection
as connecting as two tin-cans
connected by kite twine
yet your mind fills with wonder
with visible and invisible
messages from that star
perhaps those feelings
of awe
are not coming from within
but from without
from that other end
of that string of light
the whole universe beaming
messages of awe
to any eye
that will listen.

The Moth and the Mapmaker

The moth was pierced
by a pin
with a tiny label
pierced too
together
beneath glass
with frequent stares
eyes attracted
by wings that seemed
to be designed
by a mapmaker
of old
for ship captains
that sailed
beneath star filled skies
to guide their sails
to unknown lands
that were carefully draw
over countless years
on the wings
of moths
now
under
glass.

Meditating upon forever change

Sometimes deep into the night
deep into the desert
with but the canopy of stars above
a meandering breeze
that comes and goes as it pleases
a kind of darkness below
the circular horizon that stuns the eyes
tiny sounds about
some familiar
some strangers
and seated atop gritty sand
with still warmth
from the long departed sun
new smells tickle the nose
the body slowly finds an ease
seems held upright
by that breeze
the mind
oh the mind
wants to take it all in
as the senses grow bolder
and bolder
what was once ordinary
becomes extraordinary
the mind lets go
the voice in the head is dumbstruck
what was thought to be stillness
suddenly becomes forever change
in the blink of a blind eye
the entire universe
slips
into that silent mind.

When All is Quiet

When all is quiet
perhaps the silence
you hear
is the sound of atoms
within and without
you
the sun
the avocado tree
the aluminum and plastic lawn chair
the glass of iced tea
the clouds
all the universe abuzz
in invisible motion
electrons whirling
around protons
silently
making their music
everywhere.

Starry Night

A sigh
in the night
breaks the overhead
vision
of things past
that touch my eyes
after so long
a journey
to then dissolve
in a matter
of a blink
in time
to resurrect
in sightless
thoughts
and to live on
in words passed
from me to you
a piece
of a star
made real
by sounds
uttered
in the dark
of night.

A Handful of Words

With a handful of words
I attempt to create
life lived
on this hurling Earth
a dot, less than a dot
in a universe so big
that minds like mine
get lost just thinking
such thoughts
yet in the morning dewy grass
two, then three rabbits appear
busy with their break fast
before the sun rises
and air lifts the wings
of hawks
looking for rabbits
that have
called it
a day.

Forgotten Memories

His memories
were stored
and usually forgotten
until some lazy day
when the sun shined warm
and a breeze tickled
the spirit
long forgotten memories
surfaced
to be carefully remembered
and sometimes crafted
decorated and embellished
and placed in a drawer
to be ready for that day
when spirits rose
and ears gathered
to hear his memory
of forgotten days
that never were
but now lived on
with new ears
that forever
will believe
them to be.

Come Forth

He twiddled the idea
in his head
to weave thoughts
imagined patterns
he said
of threads
woven like ancient
Persian carpets
designed for keen eyes
to reveal
a tapestry of stories
and tales
too convoluted
to tell
so they stayed
inside
his head
until his fingers
could not resist
to tell tales
that were too
convoluted
for twisted tongues
to tell.

Summer Time

Was it a peach tree
or was it plum
the card table 
four folding chairs
all set up
and four plates
with chicken
mashed potatoes
a heap of yellow corn
four glasses of milk
four cousins 
at that age
when the adults
sat inside
around a big table
and talked about 
all the things
that the children
seated at the card table
cared not
for they were content
in the shade of the tree
on that hot summer day
in July of nineteen
fifty two
to just giggle 
while eating drumsticks
with 
their hands.

A Useful Fiction

I open my eyes
to a useful fiction
of solid chairs and tables
of boulders too
that build mountains
of grains of sand
flowers and trees
a gathering of matter
arranged just so
that my mind
can construct
a reality
that even
you and I
believe
to be.

The Commenter

His mind swirled in a whirl
for he travelled far
yet never left his chair
but the whole world
was there
he watched it on his screen
and mind told fingers
just where to go
tapping the keyboard
late into the night
while the ideas
were still
bright
then they took flight
around the world
onto screens
here and there
and now and then
someone else
on a chair
read thoughts
as the Earth
swirled and whirled
around the Sun.

The Desert

The desert is a place
where all certainty
is uncertainty
where reality
is a mirage
where a mirage
becomes reality
where the wind tests
all that dares to challenge it
and the challengers that survive
are never the same
erosion bares all
with softness the first to go
hardness is the survivor
adaptability
coming in
a strong
second.

The Scientist

He flew
in airplanes
and walked on
sandy shores
and rocky ones too
he could count atoms
and stars too
constructed molecules
inside his head
with thoughts and memories
of textbooks and tweezers
he inspected
insects
and with a hammer
he once split a rock
just to give light
to a trilobite
and ask
who
are
you?

Molecules in One Grain of Sand

It was about a
trillion billion
by his rough calculations
but I wasn't about
to start counting
for I had sixty whole minutes
in the hour that I thought I had
until I realized that
time wasn't minutes
for me to count
but was a trillion billion
chances
just waiting
to be.

Mojave

In the Mojave desert
I once spent the night
talking to the stars
in darkness
in a sleeping bag
atop still warm sand
as the wind calmed
eyes to the heavens
filling my mind
with wonder
as I told the stars
that they twinkled
and could think
of nothing else
that the universe
wanted to hear
and so 
I closed my eyes
and listened
and heard
myself talking
as always 
to 
myself.