Life With Horace

poetry & essays


2 Comments

stepping onto grass

a sip of camomile to soften nerves
as though a quiet moment on the porch
observing fire flies punctuate the trees
could travel through cloud rain
to touch a friend
like me a score or so ago
now waiting for the sun
to shiver start the day
mind’s eye reaching for
the girl child of my heart
lace tokening her gaze
unruly brother brought to sudden tears
on catching sight
of unanticipated beauty
tethered by her father’s arm
last moments as the impish girl
who stood upon his feet to waltz
then stepping sure on sea scent grass
to speak her promises
and dance love wrapped
as woman, on her way

________________________________
twenty three years on, that lovely day still resonates, the union it produced a loving one. for Lisa.


2 Comments

still

pop_ethan_sammy

what visits me today?
a lullaby in baritone
and funny bits of song,
dreadful jokes
in nuanced tones,
bearded bristle, paired
with a million kisses,
all too human shoulders
I thought and hoped
were everlasting granite,
long held friendships both
a gift and an example,
the pungent scent of cuban leaf
lit anywhere but in the house,
a feel for speed
and open road,
the skies he loved
and flew so well,
laughter, books and music
with the color, light and form
he looked at every day,
these brought him peace,
the certainty of love
from open eyes,
straight told advice,
his caring deep,
his spirit so ingrained,
that now, whenever
need is great
I conjure loving echoes
of an imperfect
perfect father,
to see me through
the dark

_______________________________
nine years ago today, my father died at 89, suddenly, but blessedly not alone, my sister was with him. his legend looms large in our lives, to quote a beatle, and I know we all miss him, need him, still and always.