Blue stilt bird in a tree
On the green
Promontory.
When he tired of the view,
He flew.
I, too
Flew,
Or, so it seemed,
In dreams.

A Tuesday I should have been in school,
Sitting in the basement,
With my father,
And my grandmother,
And my brothers and sisters.
Dad reading from the Bible.
I looked up through the window,
And saw the gurney wheels roll out the front door.

A woman with three children
Lost one.
He ran away laughing.
But a woman with a teen-aged son
And a big smile
Swooped in a like a low-flying aircraft
And caught him between her mother’s *******
And took him back.

Breakfast in bed,
And idle pools,
And fountains spreading rainbows in the sun,
Which mostly shines.
An hour at the mill and back
Wiping the hands on tissue
That is never seen again
Perfect hands
Soft and White
For holding flowers
An island, not in the sea,
But in tumult.
A seawall weary and straining
Lamentations bitter and loud
Not from without
But within.

It hurt too much to cry for Mom,
But I had a fat old yellow Tom
Those days it seemed I never sat
Without that furball on my lap.
When I had to leave him at the vet
I wept
A funny fat old yellow cat
The straw that broke the camel's back.

My friends call it a transition
A new phase of life
The guiltmongers scowl
"Not everyone is as lucky as you"
I sit with drink in hand
And watch the setting sun
The transition from this phase
Is death.

You'd take my hand and wait to see,
What I'd say when you loved me.
I know you must have wondered why,
I never gave you like reply.
But lady, you must understand,
Why I only squeezed your hand.
Love enough was only there,
To be important to be fair.
I told my self to be beguiled,
I only needed wait awhile.
But before that time you set me free,
Was the problem you, or was it me?