Star Gazing

The astronomer has a lens full of stars. He wonders
if he should switch to wide angle to give them more room.

They are like a swarm of bees.

He wonders if he can change shapes permanently
by adjusting the focus.

He wonders if the stars know how close
he has brought them; if they have any sense
of distance. Perhaps they think the lens is their
galaxy reshaped…

He wonders what he can do with them. They lack
the magic of free stars. Has he destroyed their purpose?

He wonders if they could be used to pollinate flowers,
a sort of stingless bee…

He wonders if he should stir them to butter with a big spoon.

He wonders if they are looking at him, too.

He would like to line them up single file
but drifts off into space, star gazing.

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In Harmony with Mist

The mist of a foggy night
wraps me in old memories

Voices, faces, dreams
swirl around me
whispering reminders

Free from the tug
of gravity, my bones
dissolve

I inhabit a zone without time
where yesterday
and tomorrow

blend into one song
that sparks the sky with starlight

Tasting a Poem

Come to the poem hungry
after a day without sustenance
when you’re lonely and empty

Feel the breeze ripple your hair
Come to the poem when it’s raining
mingle your tears with the mist

Listen with your heart
Taste the poem tentatively
Savor it until hunger subsides

Ipso Facto

You make it easy
to believe
the world is good

In the haven
of your gentle voice
I find peace

In the strength
of your stance
I find serenity

The despotic world
would do its best
to deceive

But in the darkest night
your light is sure
and steady

You
make it easy
to believe.

A Clear Day

The glory
is not gone from Earth,
only from the weary minds
of those who have forgotten
the peace of counting stars.

The rose
still wafts its sweet perfume,
the rainbow’s arc
is still as grand
and the sparrow’s faith

is still
a marvelous thing.
Grief is ever with us,
a companion
when we’d choose solitude

but it’s tempered now
by a new accord,
an inner light
matched only by the sky,
so bright on this May morning.

Wind and Roses

What the wind gives
it takes away,

the soft scent of roses
and sea breeze,
the white capped waves,
the sails that fill the harbor
’til dawn when they sail again,
All leave with the wind
.

I gave it my dry leaves
and my flowers
that bloomed by the fountain.
Now the wind is gone,
My feet are anchored in stone.