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Poems

Somehow it has all come down to this

Somehow it has all come down to this Long dog walks in the mornings The garden in early light Memories that rise and fall like June fog along the coast A finch at the feeder, now two An unknown rustling in the nearby grass Earth running through fingers as I engage the hopeful art of … Continue reading »

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The Pace of Things

Swift things are beautiful: A dog along the surf, A growing child (all too) Springtime, in its budding and flowering And sudden storms, And childhood (did I say childhood?), And a year in my life these years. Slow things are beautiful: Sunday mornings Long morning walks, Eventual happiness and self-acceptance, The way that the heart … Continue reading »

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Father’s Day 2015

No longer fierce nor proud Or swaying over some sentimental song Your long labors behind you now The dreams, the shifts, the hours Could not help you express your truths Even to those who loved you. Speak to me now as you couldn’t then No longer seeking your approval But wishing it still Tell me … Continue reading »

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Somehow it has all come down to this

Long dog walks in the mornings The garden in early light Memories that rise and fall like June fog along the coast A finch at the feeder, now two An unknown rustling in the nearby grass Earth running through fingers as I engage the hopeful art of planting A circling red-tail casting its shadow on … Continue reading »

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My father, more or less

My father did not speak to me Or if he did I could not hear him. He was not silent, but he did not readily share What it was to be a man. Except this: “When you look in the mirror to shave, Always live your life So you can look yourself in the eye.” … Continue reading »

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1/1/15

And in the embers of 2014 lies an old friend whom I can’t stop missing, a cousin who touched lives, a friend who lived life fully, My mother’s 100th birthday had she lasted, And a risky dance with Barcelona. All grist for the mill, dust in the corners of this room, Swept now, in this … Continue reading »

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She moved with her own kind of logic

          He aspired to architecture Because he loved the structure of things But instead became a butcher Carving life down to gristle and bone.   She had no choice but to pursue Interior design For every room she entered Was transformed.  

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Release

“One day standing on a river with my fly rod I’ll have the courage to admit my life to myself” Jim Harrison A long last swig of thermos coffee, some extra tippet Just in case. We step away from gravel roads And all the grating calls of civilization Into the waiting stream. Still and clear … Continue reading »

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He pauses in his backcast

    There is a river that flows out of the wilderness Cut deep through rock cliff Graveled broadly from the shore And I long to stand in it To wade and cast my line and know that my life is complete Cast in the comfort of the loves that I have known In those … Continue reading »

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Landscapes

  These familiar landscapes Worked and reworked in my mind These many years. So familiar That the truth of them has long since disappeared Melting gently into the way it was Fading into their own order. I was young once, I know My life populated by faces and voices Who did not then and still … Continue reading »

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