Life With Horace

poetry & essays


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tess

bright eyes watching
so much energy
open joy
loving creature
certain of the
care and patience
that surround her
born for running
and she does
leaping, bounding
through the trees
a blur of white
with red bandanna
sailing over
the high snow bank
at woods edge
unrestrained
but fast returning
to the simpler path
no hesitation
the voice of love
is calling

____________________
written during a visit to a friend in North Bennington, Vermont, where I finally got to meet her wonderful young Llewellin Setter, Tess.


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living beyond

there are many ways to live beyond
outside a town or village
certainly, or in
excess of any kind
bereft pf limit or of sense
but those of many years
walk in honor
passing milestones
in their lives
until they stand
a generation’s singleton

great age has hangers on
the limpet mines
of ache or cloudy thoughts
that veil perception
turn thoughts inward
slow withdrawal
roles now reversed
you are our rock
however spiny
we love you fiercely
need you always
cherished elder
still a pilgrim

_______________________
for Dorothy


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soul tending

this seems the time
to tend one’s soul,
not just resolve
but looking out
and seeing in,
as dark recedes
and light is growing
in the mind
and to the eye.

why does the spirit
need a reset?
dug, then redug
like a garden,
soil turned up
to meet the light.

the answer lies in
life’s renewal,
making fertile
that inside us,
ready to be open
and receive
the heady rush
of spring.


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the false green

with winter off its rails,
a whiplash melt from ice
lays bare the lawn,
its blades now gold
and fledgling green,
looking much like march grass,
foretelling sun warmed birthing
an accidental color
it fools the eye and heart
this is not caesar’s month
the cold and snow of janus
will reclaim their space
until the sun extends its reach
into the soil, and pulls spring up


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down to the trees

this old house sits well below
Monadnock’s western arm
embraced by friendly woods,
above a sometime stream
where sunrise is a straggler
with extra feet to climb.
in winter, light leaves fast.
East Hill, across the pond
brings sunset much too soon
but night time is a glory.
with no cloud or dimming light
the brilliant heavens
send us our reward,
a rain of stars down to the trees