Love of My Life

First daylight bleeds into the chill
stillness of our room, enfolding
the serene magnificence of your form
in repose, exposing the fragile beauty
of your features. You, like a National Park,
too lovely to disturb. Like a marauding
strip miner I risk all to kiss your brow,
to breathe the perfume of your hair.


A third of a year gone by again
weeks and months stacked like
trashbags in a landfill
keeping track of landmarks and milestones
requires more and more skill
sadness and regret all around our feet
so we strive to find the higher ground
where joy and hope still meet
but it’s a complicated path
full of wrong turns and dead ends
don’t be afraid to turn around
and if you must, pretend
that you have reached a place
with that perfect view
and with a little luck
the view may just find you

Cold Sheets

The wedding day was sunny
and clear with a crisp breeze,
but I don’t think the temperature
ever reached thirty degrees.
Honeymoon in a lake house
that had been closed for the winter,
we had to light the furnace
before we even entered.

The windows were frosty inside
we didn’t really care,
enjoying views of lake and woods
was not why we were there.
The sheets were as cold as ice
but not for very long
we didn’t wait for furnace heat
to begin our wedding song.

We loved and laughed for two days
and kept things toasty warm
then went back to civilization
and what was now our home.
So cold sheets don’t really bother me
with this memory to warm my heart,
death’s farewell couldn’t break the spell
we’ve never been apart.

No Gifts

Not Ebenezer Scrooge
not Clark Griswold
not the Grinch
nor Buddy the Elf
certainly not a Wise Man
maybe an old drummer guy
if I played drums
with no gifts to bring
except to sing
in excelsis deo

Woo to the Hoo

Some days, I feel good in spite of myself.
Well I’ve been down in a deep dark cave
but I crawled back to the light of day
still cold and dirty but I’m gettin’ warm
scarin’ me now will take more than a storm

the buzz-killers all say, “hell to the no”
they have a ride waiting
but they won’t go
but the sun is shining and the sky is blue
hop in, baby
let’s woo to the hoo

you can beat yourself up
you can bring yourself down
you can drag your blues all over town
or you can say, “what the Hell”
let’s enjoy the trip
dig in your spurs and shoot from the hip

I can almost hear the fiddles playin
feeling this good is almost like prayin’
tomorrow I might be back in the ditch
but today I’m gonna scratch that itch

the buzz-killers all say, “hell to the no”
they have a ride waiting
but they won’t go
but the sun is shining and the sky is blue
hop in, baby
let’s woo to the hoo
hop in, baby
let’s woo to the hoo


 When even in sleep your hand grasps mine
firmly with childlike faith and trust
with fragrant curls teasing my lips and nose
as bodies essed familiarly nestle warm
snuggling close, and the gentle music
of your breathing, the lullaby mantra,
strikes chords of peaceful joy in my soul

Then let the God who has granted me
the Blessing of this moment
hear the song of praise and thanks
my heart sings.


Listening to the old
songs of young men
takes me back
to a time when
everything was new
there was nothing to fear
and I suffered the illusion
that everything was clear.

Resolved to get
to the bottom of things
but found things have no bottom
learned a lot of lessons
but promptly forgot ’em.
Now all I know with certainty
is that nothing’s certain,
but I’ve grown adept at faking it
like the man behind the curtain

I’m comfortable not knowing
playing hit or miss
it alleviates the pressure
guess ignorance is bliss
until new songs
from men grown old
reminds me how
it all unfolds