In the teeming crowd

In the midst of a teeming crowd

some curl their heads toward warm feathers,

seemingly oblivious to their world.

A grizzled old man and a very sad young man

sit on a nearby street each day, kind of like birds,

part of the scene, yet tucked away.

Distractions

That sudden turn:

to catch a partly heard conversation,

perhaps startled by a sudden breeze.

I cannot decide: lack of focus

or responding to the moment?

Staying in the moment

Quietly sitting in the warm Spring sun

waiting for nothing I can name.

A slight breeze through the blooming

tomato plants: contemplating a harvest. 

And, then a tiny visitor brings the moment,

now, and it is simply perfect.

Touched by a butterfly

The touch of a butterfly

on a child’s finger.

So evanescent,

yet filled with strength and trust.

Many things complicate life,

when we are neither child nor butterfly.

Too often fear and knowledge

overcome the gentle moment.

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 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.

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.