Sunday, January 23, 2011


There is a magic in remembrance,
As when we almost met.
The moon was at eye level,
The sun about to set.

You clapped to the musicians,
Who played down by the beach,
Your hips maintained a rhythm,
No pedagogue could teach.

The wind tugged gently at your scarf,
Then hid beneath your hair.
I suddenly had the strangest wish-
I wanted to be air!

But fortunately wise fate,
Refused to bend my way.
And you faded with sweet music,

Into dusk and end of day.

Always the Summer

Is it always the summer,
And a certain mix of light,
Donated by the moon,
To captivate the night?

Isn’t it always the summer?
And accident of place?
You’re where you shouldn’t be-
And beauty’s in that face.

It’s the tyrant side of summer.
It swaddles you in heat.
It weakens words to whispers,
And shackles all retreat.

It is always the summer.
You are a child one day-
Then moon and heat and madness

Whisk innocence away.

Space and Time

In world news the other day,
Some scientists had this to say-
Space, it seems, is made of string,
And likely matter- everything!
This helps explain the space-time curve,
That they have recently observed.

And Time in one direction flows,
As study after study shows;
Steadily it’s future bound,
No chance it will meander ‘round,
Allowing us to mark a route,
Then placidly- in Time- commute.

But should we near the speed of light,
Then Time will slow its steady flight,
Providing us quite possibly,
Youth frozen in eternity,
Where we can in cosmic play,
Enjoy forever and a day.

But you, in humble earthly state,
Prompt science to even more debate.
For, entering your company,
The universe disbands, you see,
And Space and Time begin to gel,
Caused by some irrational spell,

You cast on them- and me as well.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Holding the Cat

Summer’s piercing sunny beams
Beset my backyard deck in streams
Of heat. A monster maple offers shade
But little refuge. Heat continues its cascade.

The cat, outstretched in dreams
And idleness, is oblivious to all, it seems.
Enjoying peace unknown to men
Until it’s time to fight again.

From my door, I envy his disinterest.
I move to cradle him across my chest,
Absorb his strength and confidence.
His eyes respond in feline silence.

Cats could talk had they the means, you know,
But lacking that, they rely on show-
A turn of tail, a nudge, a mew, a glance,
Posturing, a telling stance.

And now, a squirm makes his message clear.
“Loose me, and I’m off from here.
Go tend your business of the day,

I must rest before I seek my prey.”