Monday, April 30, 2012

Protea in California

Immigrant days:
feeling I don’t belong,
forgetting that
great beauty
is often alien.

Unlike the god Proteus
who changed at will,
I cling to a vanished
personal form,
yet knowing
that we are all transplants 
who must adapt.

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Sunday phone call

Seems so odd, what we remember.

With such a vast store of memories,
I miss the Sunday call, 
very long-distance,
with my Mom. 
The last one ─
about eighteen years ago.

Usually, we talked about weather or
breakfast, or what she had seen on t.v.  
Sometimes we would talk wildflowers:
a great love learned from her Mom.

Seems so odd, what we remember.

Monday, April 16, 2012

A village up-rooted

The neighborhood bee-keeper’s hives
swarm out of fear or dislocation,
seek a safe haven.  
A frantic search: 
much like life
every day
in war-torn countries 
every where.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Easter Blessings

Wishing everyone many blessings at Easter.
The rebirth of seasons and the hope of a beautiful future
seems to be with so many this time of the year.
My hope is that it true for you.

The creator of this little street garden in San Francisco
certainly has both trust in the passersby
and a light approach to living in the world.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Things change

So many things are changing:
gardens in amazing bloom.
friends embracing both loss and joy.
And for me, life is full and yet I contemplate:
Hafiz said, “something missing in my heart tonight
has made my eyes so soft”
Again, things change.