Saturday, January 12, 2013

Small Stone: January 12, 2013



Sunset, highlighting the icy clouds
streaming down from the Gulf of Alaska.
It is so seldom cold here that we treat it
like a gift. May have frost nearby tonight.

But, it is not a gift for the animals and people
who do not have warm shelter in this City
of Saint Francis.


Friday, January 11, 2013

Small Stone: January 11, 2013



A chilled afternoon walk to my local market.
Pondering how much I want to carry back up
the small hill to my house. Kind of lethargic and unsure:
create a good meal, or zap something in the microwave. 
Absolutely sure, though, that my “stone”
for today is going to be gray.

And, then I  am confronted
by the flower vendor changing 
Winter to Spring.


Thursday, January 10, 2013

Small Stone: January 10, 2013




This morning in front of the discount fish market
on diverse Mission Street:

Fitfully sleeping on the bus-stop bench,
as usual ─ the grizzled old man existing
in the last, probably hopeless,
stages of an alcoholic reality.

Nearby, two beautifully groomed ladies,
perhaps near the same age
hand out Spanish-language Watchtower
magazines: offering their great hope
for eternity.
















A photo of today would have been invasive
and inappropriate. Thought I would cast my
eyes upward with this older photo.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Small Stone: January 9, 2013



Dragon slayer. The artist turned
the idea up side down…
the marching dragon
has the saber!



This is a wonderful fence around
our local playground designed by
my friend, Michael Bartalos.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Small Stone: January 8, 2013



Out with the old,
though so recently new.
I made no resolution
to make such change.
Today: seems inevitable.


Monday, January 7, 2013

Small Stone: January 7, 2013



Astonishingly gray day,
not a hint of sun, light diffused.
Against the sky, the many shades
of a winter’s green, enhanced. 



Sunday, January 6, 2013

Small Stone: January 6, 2013



One of the tallest trees
in the City is in a back garden,
down the block.
I see it growing every morning,
but many days don't notice.

What did the person who planted a seedling,
perhaps a hundred years ago,
know of duration or time?