Precious Things

I will talk with you of precious things,
The sunsets' hue and birds that sing,
What children did and adults do,
And teaching babes to tie their shoe.

That time is worth much more than gold,
And greater still - someone to hold.
Health is not so over-rated,
Biggest regrets? O'er those I've berated.

To spend an hour with my niece
Is like another puzzle piece,
The real measure of a man
May be in how he takes a hand.

How dawn and dusk partner their color
And share that with an ardent lover.
That tiny bloom so trodden on
Could still bear seed, even looking wan.

A child dancing with Elmo and chasing the dog
Is better than coffee at cutting through fog,
Anticipation's not better than the event,
And moments together are time best spent.

I've learned I'm not completely whole,
That television can't fill my soul,
And what I've been and what I've done
Have been negated by the Son.

The Dance

With lightened heart and care-loosed feet
setting out hand-in-hand
to Celtic tune and callers bleat
of "hay," "gypsy," "allemand."

All that satin, cotton and silk
a'twirl in twos and fours,
topped by smiles white as milk
on dancers by the score.

Away sad thoughts, can you not see?
The dance is on, it's time for glee!

Consider the dance in contrast to
and not as to oppose,
this instant poised, then threading through
a line, and then who knows?

Tumbl' out your hair, O lady dear.
What need have you for care?
This dizziness will soon make clear,
so lose yourself in ayre.

Just To Catch You Up

Just to catch you up
On someone you once knew,
That guy made you believe
The problem was all you.

He knew that while on eggshells
You would tread gingerly.
You'd be forced to read into
Nonsense you couldn't see.

For love had left you blinded,
Thinking 'twas what you'd done,
And so he played the martyr,
That's how the table spun.

That guy, he wised up late,
Looks out now at how far
Sickness, pride and ego
Can drive two hearts apart.

Early Spring

The crocus explode in glory
from winters' dominance
and birth across the landscape
secrets of providence.

The iris and the tulip
strike chords in memory
adding voice and violin
to a sight exemplary.

The smile of early spring
vague feelings of delight
these daffodils hold on to
a sanguine view of life.

Homo Sapien, Man

He stood erect.
I don't know
if he would have kissed his mate
     or patted his childrens' heads
when he set out from camp
     to procure food.
But they were happy
when he returned provisioned.
I bought him rice and tuna at Wal-Mart.
This is homelessness today.

Love and Energy

Maybe, like energy
love is neither created
      nor destroyed
and simply is,
waiting to be chosen.

My Pen

This old fountain pen
knows all the words,
all the secret thoughts
I've chosen to conceal
those I dare not reveal.
Had I access to those parts of me
I just might write in pencil.