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HAUNTING
The ghosts of my birth parentsblow into my dreams asso many white sheets tornfrom the clotheslineby gale winds, fly over me,at once angels and vulturescarrying off memoriescreated from the clayof surmise and wishful thinking. I invite their visits, frailbranches to which to clingin the storms of growing age,beginnings tenuous anchorsto hold against time, knowingthe battle…
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RAINY DAY
The rain came sideways today, or almost so. The cat decided that if she needed a bath, she’d give it to herself and opted to watch the storm through the sliding glass door to the lanai. When it ended, she ventured back out, checking out the various and sundry chairs, all hers she assumes, and…
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IF IT STICKS
It is the Italian season in the southeast. This has nothing to do with the country, its food or language. Well a bit to do with food. It is hurricane season here, and when a storm arises, you can be certain most of us begin to scan the web for information, for weather can quickly…
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RUSHING IN
Step right up, don’t hang back,come and watch the fool perform for you.You know me, bedecked in motley emotionsworn like so many colorful rags,a suit of too many shades and hues,all displayed for your entertainment.See if you can find ten shades of angeras I prance around in front of you.Count the five flavors of tearsthat…
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KNOWLEDGE
It is difficult explaining to a child,even one who has reached the age of 40,that you once knew all there was to know.They are certain they know more than you,and they know all there is to knowso, a fortiori, you could not knowall that there is to know, period.They will say this with a certain…
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ON THE BEACH
It washed up on the beach this morning,stopped right at my feet, as Istared down at it, examining it carefully.It message was clear at first, a taletoo hard to swallow, of creaturestossed about by a storm that no onesaw, from an age in which no onenow alive could have experienced.The message described a magic landof…
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CYCLES
The Royal Poinciana is in full bloom, its brilliant flame has led the sun to take jealous refuge in the clouds but we know not to be complacent. Mother nature it is said, and we are loathe to argue, can be at times the most fickle of bitches and we suspect that it will not…
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RIVER CROSSING
We crossed the Hudson this afternoon on a Dutch named bridge in a driving rain so strong you could hear little over the beat of the wipers throwing sheets of water. You wondered why the superstructure was only on the Eastern end. I wondered why they had to have a Dutch name no one can…
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THE BURDEN
We are obligated to carry memories, and as we get older the burden grows ever heavier, we bend under its weight, knowing we dare not lose even one for once castoff, the weight is carried off like the smallest feather on a storming wind. Soon enough it is we who will become the burden that…
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STORM FRONT
I arrive home to the wreckage of the tornado that is a three-year-old. Picking up the pieces scattered about we both think of how soon the next storm will arrive and how we will welcome its coming.
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an old writer and his words 