Father's Day 2018

Hidden in the depths of memories are a few shafts of light

Sharing a single source, like the points in the night,

Building snowmen armies guarding forts from assaults,

Pencil on paper, checking the math to be sure it’s right,

Guiding hands on tools and toys, neck ties and gear shifts,

Curve balls and fish hooks, shoe shines and shaving cream,

All lessons learned by young hands and mind,

Actions and attitudes established and refined,

Always with love and a firm hand from time to time,

Always an example, a model for life and living,

Struggling and sweating, not always winning,

Thank you for giving so much for so long,

For sharing your weaknesses yet remaining so strong,

Not a day passes that you’re not on my mind,

Happy Father’s Day Pop, it was a great ride…

Maybe Tomorrow

Last night’s snowfall disappeared slowly, struck by the shallow sunshine falling from between the gray cloudy masses sailing slowly above

Swirling cold seeps in the open window bringing a frigid freshness unlike the spring sunshine from yesterday

The stripes mounted on the front porch billow flutter n fly constantly, eventually wrapping the pole only to be unwound and forced to repeat their spinning dance

The cold and the darkening gray and the constant flapping mix with a decades old playlist murmuring in the background, masking its intent

The muted daylight begins to die forcing the sky to shades of blurred gray n muted blackish blues signaling the end of the day which seemingly never really started

Wandering the inside shadows without direction finally reaching the comfort of flannel and quilting and burrowing deep beneath them

Maybe tomorrow will fulfill the hope of a warm bright start followed by hours of accomplishments and successes, maybe tomorrow…

Simple Spring Storm

An urge to step out into the night

Watching lace curtains of crystals fall through the street light

Beginning to wrap the tops of the spider leg branches

Covering the walkway with a wet sheen reflecting the glow

Hiding in the dark void, a comforter of white billows over the ground

Adding scattered starry sparkles that have fallen from above

The thin opening in the front window pulls cool breezes inside

To the accompaniment of an occasional slushy traveler on the street

Not the harshness of winter’s voice and frigid wrap

Just a simple spring storm, led by gentle drops that became crystal wings

Spinning toward the ground beneath the black gray abyss above.