Tricky

I might fall in love
three or four times a day
but not hard enough
that I’d ever say
the kinds of things
I might regret later
don’t want to turn a friend
into a hater

I know what love takes
I don’t have it to give
still in the shadow
of the last love I lived
the cracks in my heart
won’t stand too much trauma
so my head tries to steer
me away from any drama

But love can be tricky
it won’t knock on the door
it crawls through the window
and ties you up on the floor
it that happens, mercy
is all I’d ask for
something along the lines
of the sea and the shore

Too old to run
too tired to fight
if cunning doesn’t save me
whatever happens is alright

Advertisements

Still Standing

Over the hill
and several mountains
drug up a creek or two
til getting from one end of
the day to the other
is about all that I can do

I can remember
being young and strong
and good for something or other
now I guess
the joke’s on me,
I’m hardly worth the bother

But if I were the president
or a lottery millionaire
I couldn’t take the grief away
from people for whom I care
I can’t learn the lessons again for them
we all have to live the hard parts
I only hope the fact that I’m still standing
might help to give them heart

Without Reservation

Live
with the Longing
without expectation
without regret
without reservation

Know
that the empty place
down in your core 
need not define you
may at times be ignored

without
retribution from the
spirits who give
that elegant Longing with
which you must
live.

Without Reservation

Live
with the Longing
without expectation
without regret
without reservation

Know
that the empty place
down in your core (acceptance
of longing is Faith)
need not define you
may at times be ignored

without
retribution from the
spirits who give
that elegant Longing with
which you must
live.

Post Meridian

Summer days blaze so long and bright and heavy
midday slips into evening unnoticed until lengthening
shadows and a breath of a breeze bring a welcome relief
and just enough night to get the rest you need.

Brilliant blue October afternoons go by too fast,
with cool long evenings to fill with too much
contemplation of completion
& incompletion, more day gone than left,
more year gone than not, more of the biography
written than left to write, a waning
day among waning days.

But we shall not dine on regrets this evening
(that can of worms upsets the digestion)
and idle dreams aren’t very filling
so let us take satisfaction from the Grace
of this quiet moment
and the peace of knowing
we have done what we could.

Nothing Much

He told me
they were married twenty-eight
years, separated for twenty,
just never got around to a divorce
So when she had a heart
attack and died the funeral fell
on him, of course

It seemed the right thing to do
and he does what he can
no one ever said he’s not
a right thing kind of man
nothing to lose by it
nor anything to gain
seemed they’d grown far enough
apart, not even that much pain

But in his eyes I thought
I saw a fleeting sorrow
perhaps for all those
youthful tomorrows
turned to yesterdays long since
nothing much sadder than love
turned into indifference

Non-reaper

In the time of the Harvest
specters of things unsown
are as cruel as the empty basket
and it is no consolation
that the locusts went hungry too

Sure, the birds of the air are fed,
but a rib eye seems to require
a bit more foresight than
seeds and crumbs
or the bread we cannot
live on alone

Not knowing what you’ve got
til it’s gone and realizing what
you could have had, right after it’s
too late to get it are the heads
and tails of regret

If a little time and effort
are the keys to transforming
your fields of stone
into those waves of grain
it is indeed foolish to wait
for the earth to plow itself.