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NIGHT
The night slowly encases the citythe river flows on toward the lakebirds shiver in the biting chill,the street light flickers and goes out,the wind whistles around the windows,snow begins to coat the trees’ bare branches,a squirrel looks up forlornly,the traffic light inexorably changes colors,TV’s flicker behind curtained windows,we slide beneath the blankets,sleep comes slowly to…
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LILAC
It is the season, I remember,when the clusters of flowersrip free of their cocoons andgrasp the warming sun, spewingout their sweet fragranceto bees and people alike.They know their time is short,turn riotous in pastel shadeswhite, pink, purple, lilacthey hope we will not soon forget.It was always like that, an annualrite of beauty that we havegiven…
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THREE HAIKU
music of kotogently washes angry wallsspring robin is born lightening etches cloudsarching over the cityspring rain approaches rising sun castsits glow on the shirred mirrorof the reservoir
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ALL TOO SOON
We know it is a matter of timebefore the rains will come,the hurricanes will wailand inundate our world.We have planned for thisand we know we are not ready.We will be overwhelmedas we are each time, homeslost to floods that risefrom an angry ocean tiredof not being heeded.We will bail, pump and mop,wage a losing battleagainst…
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THREE HAIKU
wind blows from the northwind blows from the westthe tree is indifferent an old mantis praysseeking nothing for himselfthe sun smiles on him. on the hillsidesheep curl into a furrowcounting shepherds
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AND THE RAINS CAME
It may sound odd, but what I miss mostis the spring rain, so short lived, alongthe roads in Highland Park in Rochester.You may say “but you live in Floridawhere the seasons are measured bywet and dry” and we do get rain, sometimesseemingly in Biblical proportions.and the Blue-winged Teals have returnedto our wetland now almost half…
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SPRING RAIN
The last flowers rain downfrom the cherry trees, a pervasivesadness announcing summer’s approach.We would welcome it, but wefear its possible wrath for allseasons show their anger to us.as if to cast blame on us for ignoringtheir beauty, their bounty, assumingtheir offerings will recur despiteour misbegotten changes to whatthey have always relied on, our arroganceand greed…
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IN BAKERSFIELD
In Bakersfield they don’t give a damn about hurricanes, he realized. They might watch them on the news, be amazed at the force of the wind, the water, the destruction they could cause, but they were abstract, like blizzards now were to him, a curiosity of nature but having no bearing on his day to…
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WAITING SEASON
He had been standing there for hoursstaring into the heavens, the cloudsa foreboding shroud promising regeneration,promising rain, promising redemption.He said to the heavens, “I loved you once,”and an ominous wind replied, “youloved yourself, nothing else mattered.”He wanted to argue but the wind, too,abandoned him and the smell of lightninghe could not yet see assaulted him.He…
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MORNING
The clocks have begrudginglyshifted again, the earlymorning lost in darknessbarely illuminated by a waning moon.The fronds of the Royal Palm’swhisper “we are here, waitfor us.” But they are mere shadowsbegging for dawn’s arrival.Finally the sun engulfs the starswatching over the horizon,the fronds say “look at me,I will give you an infinitepalette of green that will…
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an old writer and his words 