Life With Horace

poetry & essays


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Outriders

There are days I see
the broad shape of earth
in the clouds
arriving ahead of wind and snow
tails feathered to a point
evaporating ether like
in ice clear sky
We can only guess
at the cold
they announce
racing battle pennants
for a promised storm
The rattle of their casting bones
driving us to shelter


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Until then

There may still be
wind, that has not kissed
my face

Or light on vernal
water, not seen through
my lens

Or singing, that has
yet to hum along
my bones

Or time with friends, dancing
in green waves, sand on
my feet

Or words to share, flowing
from the mouth of
my heart

But, there was always love, with
you, so if I skip the rest
to waltz out in your arms,

It will be enough to
know these gifts waited
with me, just in case.

 

 


Audio: Read by the author.

 

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A birthday poem for Mike


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sharing space

my mind has come to see
there is no yin
without its yang,
wherever I am now,
my form and spirit
are surrounded by the fabric
of that place and moment,
feeling solitary, sovereign,
yet part of nature’s
warp and weft.
today, rushing, late,
I stay departure
for a moment’s glance,
a look into bright sun,
finding clouds
just above the trees,
moving fast as waves
propelled by whooshing wind
pitched high, accompanied
by constant leaf vibrato.
I have a sudden sense
of place reversed.
is all this truly
passing over us
or are we sailing
upside down on
pulsing ocean white caps,
tree sails steering us
toward the sun?

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I am grateful for many things in my life, especially for the thoughts that come when my mind is free to wander and wonder.