Life With Horace

poetry & essays

Tag Archives: poetry


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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 the lawn bare
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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Everyday pleasures

At the piano I watch small fingers make their music so determined so well done the joy in her eyes is in my heart joking laughter with her brother so much taller than the last time more movies made and volumes read a classroom visit sticky hands and icing gingerbread embellished a dog asleep in sunlight the rhythm of lives cherished and held close in memory to be enriched once more

__________________________________________________
This prose poem was written as I read about the events in the lives of two very dear members of an online creative group I belong to. it is posted in recognition of profound love and loss, and my abiding gratitude for the love of my family, as we gather together this week.


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The growing point

Upright still sentry
outlier for the world beneath
a winter effigy belying spring’s next promise
it stands in ice and snow

A window sill
bright warmth and light
protects a tender shoot
fresh green against
the gray and silver backdrop
green lava moving upward

My own such point
is not so clearly seen or felt
a junction of my spirit
trust and will reagents for the heady mix
that grows joy in my soul

______________________________________
A poem for a winter afternoon, as the days draw down to the solstice.


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The Stuffing Bowl

Once spied up on a dusty shelf
and brought home as a prize
the stuffing bowl sits quiet
holding memory in its curve
The sisterhood of early rising cooks
assembling the ingredients
of timeless celebrations
ingatherings of family and friends
all linked by common filament
It waits for careful hands
to lift it down and fill its heart again
with love and thankfulness

_______________________________
My sister Annie and I have always called each other on Thanksgiving morning, up early, cooking.


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finding joy

in a redwood grove
the sun’s arm lights the ferny floor

in the company of beloved children
there is nonsense and wonder

in the winter marshland
there is texture more than color

in the midst of singing
the voices tell me stories

in the simple potent thing
there is splendor waiting for me

it feasts my eyes
and I am full of joy


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Doors through grief

I stand on the newer side
of grief not knowing what
that opening will bring
but trusting my intent certain
that this journey must be made
God help me there is still love
a garment long worn thin
I do have hope the gift
of help caring hands to clasp
many loving words
Mine only if I ask and
swing this new door
wide to admit them
Today new portents fly
the sky great cloud wings
that form a goose
A love borne gift
come from the past
to urge the leap of faith
to go fly free
It whispers trust your spirit
it will guide you
trust your strength
it will not fail you.
A new door opens
hope is thrumming
and I step through

____________________________________
I truly think the goose-shaped cloud was my spirit guide the day I saw it.


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soaring westward

coastal waters giving way
to hills and mountains
peaks of pebble shapes
wings bear me over
valleys growing wider
and farmlands stretched out
along rich river leavings
and now the hills form islands
in patchwork green and brown
where trees fill dipping borders
and mark land’s edge
the grand Ohio, blue sidewinder
undulates through city silver
plumes and open space alike
sister rivers and streams in tribute
blue grass with horses running free
overland to unexpected forest
painted rust and gold
and bright blue water exclamations
the heartland begins in earnest
this place that feeds the world
and as we cross a mighty river
echoes of Woody’s ballad
touch my heart

_______________________________
watching the terrain change on my way west to California inspired this poem. that and some of the photos I took as the flight progressed.


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The new path

While colors fade and drop
as browns and grays emerge
upright leafless spare
The sun finds a new path
closed off before the change
This new light is a gift
an opening of space and beam
delights forgotten while
the world was green
There the gold of larches in the marsh
a roof line now exposed
a barn or field with open sightline to the hills
All these a balm to ease our journey
into winter and the snow

_____________________________________
My cousin, the writer Jack Skow, gave me invaluable advice when I showed him this, still not sure if I got it right since then.


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Transition from moonlight

Awake not by choice,
my mind wanders freely
to think about change
as a passage, a progress.
Seeing light through the window
too early for sunrise,
the lamp of the huntress
sends beams without warmth.
As the moon sets I rise,
glance out at the shapes
tall pines against sky,
emerging from darkness
to frame the new day.