Without Reservation

with the Longing
without expectation
without regret
without reservation

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

retribution from the
spirits who give
that elegant Longing with
which you must


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


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.