Going through my mom's old photos I saw not my sister, but my mother's daughter; not myself, but my mother's son In the mirror I see just another guy Through her eyes -- all the world's treasure-- December 2007
As hard as it was to let go of her, it could only have been harder for her to let go of herself -- seeing the strands slip from her fingers, watching the disobedient unraveling of the soul which she had spent a lifetime so carefully weaving-- December 2007
I open my eyes and raise my head A thousand souls stand gathered for the start -- chilly fellow runners, or a line of my ancestors quietly watching me take my turn The road twists down and out of sight The sun rises over the mountains Footfalls land lightly under me Atmosphere eddies in my lungs Blood runs richly through my veins Landscapes move gently by Death was yesterday; today is life I am glad I came here-- December 2, 2007
You can touch time but not hold it -- like a biologist treading water at sea while a mighty blue whale passes under her fingertips Feel its motion, its texture -- from the first touch of its snout through its stunning midsection until the last thrust of its fluke sends you spinning in its wake-- December 2007
It is 3 a.m. I am suddenly and inexplicably blinking and awake This year my daughter sleeps next to me, with her sleeping bag close and warm around her ears Earlier, lying there looking up, we traced out constellations She told me messages she read in the stars I saw only wordless points and figures of light She told me, Daddy, you have to believe in magic The earth, with us riding along, has made its annual plunging return through the Orionids Shocked and scorched by the sudden atmosphere, a few of them end a billion years of silent flight in a radiant burst -- afire for seconds at most, but oh, the beauty-- October 2007
Still awake in the dark one vacation weekend, we're sitting on the hood of the car, in the warm breeze looking up She's jaded now, no longer eight but almost fourteen The starry vault of the heavens has pivoted around in its slow entirety a half-dozen times, through winter constellations and summer Math is boring One boy is jealous of the way she talks to another boy Hoops dangle from her ears Self-aware, she knows what her hair looks like at every moment And she knows good coffee from bad She points and says, "Hey Dad, did you see that shooting star? Do you remember watching for them when I was little?" ... Does not a forest ... remember the very rain that made it possible?-- July 2013, 11:02 p.m.
Through the tent flap framed by sharp black pine silhouettes to left and right, moonless sky glows less dark; Sirius and Procyon shine faithful and radiant near old Orion Almost sixteen now High school half over She tells me things now that scare me but not her She pitched the tent and made half of dinner Six months old in bright red footie jammies she grinned and giggled as I held her aloft A meteor shoots left At fifteen months she first wobbled to her feet grinning again And another Before any of that, Her mother and I talked alone outside one night about this time of the evening about the idea of her: What if we ... She sleeps I sleep Before dawn in the same black-pine silhouetted frame through the same tent flap now strides Scorpio, high and elaborate another side of the sky entirely-- March 2015, 3:48 a.m.
A building on the hilly horizon was a distant castle, the river twisted downhill through misty forests toward unforeseen adventures, dragons spoke their cleverness with a wink, and that contrail in the sky was a starship entering the atmosphere of my planet, emissaries of an interstellar empire -- hostile or amicable, I would soon find out ... when I was a boy Now I know that's an apartment building, that contrail is traced by a northbound airliner, full of tourists and businesspeople yawning over half-empty coffee cups, magazines sitting open in their laps, on their way to another city much the same as their own, and the riverbed, running with snowmelt off the mountains to the northeast, silts and gravels its way on a downhill gradient toward the sea in a very fascinating and scientific way Looking down from the airplane flying over us back to my daughter -- I see her splashing barefoot on the riverbank with the dog but she's lost in thought -- she's a Naiad; her river wends its way toward Poseidon and Amphitrite Thank the gods for youth-- Spring 2010