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BLINDNESS
The Great Egret standson the shore of the pondand stares at the tall grassesseeing what we cannot. We are impatient, walkaway quickly, anxiousto get on with our dayalthough we have no plans. We do not see him lungeplucking breakfastfrom the swaying reed,he sees us blind to nature.
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GIMME A HUG
It seems odd, as I am nota hugger by nature,I love trees and hugfamilially but asidefrom family, huggingjust is not somethingI ever did. Now, when huggingis a potential deathsentence if finishedI see many around meall at a safe distanceand feel a strong desireto embrace some,knowing they wouldwelcome my arms. When this is over,when distance issomething…
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SNAKE, PRAY FOR US
In a time set aside for mourningwe easily remember those, lovedor despised, taken by age, disease,war or poverty and neglect. But trapped in our isolationwe should also pause and recallthe snake, condemned for offeringknowledge for which we were ill-equipped. Let us not forget the ram,whose only sin was to bein the wrong place at the…
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ON KNOWLEDGE
There are things children knowthat parents will never understand. Odder still, things a person knowsas a child are forgotten in adulthood. A child measures the success of a dayby the duration of the parentdemanded bath at its end. A child know that boundaries, especiallythose parentally set, are flexibleand you don’t know wherethe limit is until…
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WRITERS
I was born the same day, ina much later year as Thornton Wilder,a fact that had no impact at allon my life, since I discovered ourcommon birthday long aftermy life’s path was half tread. I read him in my youth, and mustadmit I can recall nothing of whatI read, which I attribute to allthat I…
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READY, FIRE, AIM
He should have knownthat the day was doomedfrom the moment he woketo see his alarm clock in pieceson the floor by his bed, the catgrinning at him from the placewhere the clock had always sat. Finally arriving at the office,he was no sooner at his deskwhen the fire alarm bell rang.Within moments of reenteringafter the…
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REAL TIME
He can spend hours on the wooden bench in the small square in the center of the village. There he is but a statue, staring up at the giant clock face that looms over the square from the turret of the Village Hall. He likes to watch the long hand, arrowlike, make its slow, but…
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MIX TAPE
There is an artto creating a mix tape,more so to day, whentape is usually onlyfound in museumsand antique stores. Then you chose carefullyaware of the sonics,aware of the limits on time,weaving a musical tapestry. You can do a mix CDbut everyone knowsthat with tape you listenedall the way through,for fast forward was onlyfor getting to…
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POSTDICTIONS
In the beginning there wasa void, stasis, dimensionless.I am a point, without sizetaking form only in motion,so too the seat on whichI sit on United flight 951not going from point Ato point B for neithercan exist in motiontranscending time. Each decision setsone me on a path, intoa dimension, dimensionswhile I tread a different pathand I…
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JUST ONE MORE HAND
My parents, well my father,always felt is was necessaryto stop on the way to our summer homein the Western Adirondacksto visit Uncle Morris, who mayor may not have been an unclein the blood sense, it was never clear.It was he who sold my father the cottagenear the small lake, he who nowlived in a nursing…
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an old writer and his words 