Beacon

“I dusted off his tomb, mumbling to his bones about loving and not forgetting him, but left the snow on the marker stone for better visibility from my room.”

Insurmountable

No more telling, no tales. I will read the book of dreams and see there who we are and what has been.

Today

In those days I could hardly wait for the end of June. So many moms fretting about long months without childcare, or long days without “a break,” but I had that covered. I was the childcare, and they were the break.

Compassion

Life is short. Forgive it. Let it go.

Things My Mother Left Behind

She is now a dream I have – a fragile cargo, great and small, who defies in my sleep the impossibility of her own return.

Doggo

…a long, brisk walk at the beaches in Toronto …

Smol Kitter

smol kitter, indeed…

Sandor

Here comes the sun…

– George Harrison.

Shannon

It’s hard to explain how a few precious things
Seem to follow throughout all our lives.
After all’s said and done I was watching my son
Sleeping there with my bear by his side…
Believe me if you can/ I’ve finally come
back to the House at Pooh Corner…
– Loggins and Messina
[Return to Pooh Corner]

Liam

Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine,
I’ll taste your strawberries,
I’ll drink your sweet wine.
A million tomorrows will all pass away
e’er I forget all the joy that is mine today.
– Randy Sparks

Drops

Refuse again to speak.

Retain those words that, brimming your heart, have hung so long, so low, that even you cannot with certainty declare them words, or thoughts, or there at all.

Spring Writer’s Block

Spring is for looking, not talking.

My Gossamer Universe

The prismatic exactitude of a rainbow, the guttered dirt and leaves of spring, a heart replete with love: all these perceptions can be explained and even addressed as functions of physical laws.

But they cannot be rendered small by an infinite universe that contains but does not itself perceive them, a universe that neither knows nor cares about having brought them to be.

A Seasonal Country

Gleaming through the chaotic grey, the geese again,

but air, this day, so thick

with fog they lift, they rise,

And then are gone like a mist-chance.

Logical Conclusion

The logical conclusion
of your first dark look
follows a classical line
of argument
from guarded greetings
and breathless sudden sightings
to the inevitable
and impermeable
privacy of embrace
[that cannot both be
and not be:
reductio ad absurdum].

Hearths and Homes

However long ago, however dim the memory, there is no stretch of elastic time that cannot snap back to what will always be, for once having been. No anger, no flaw, no fear or wish on anyone’s part can annul, or supplant, or diminish a first deep love, a first winter – however cold and frightening, at times – or a firstborn.

Winter Midnight

What moves at midnight

is the lateral indecision of stars

which yet strike straight.

Their vacillation a peculiar refringency:

A bending of light, through the singular elasticity

of night, into waves that shore

on the sonic nerve.