Underneath

Underneath it all, 

those roads we’ve traveled, 

are imprints. 

Hollowed echoes 

of each footstep 

leaving memories of 

our journey through life.

“Take nothing but memories, leave nothing but footprints!”

~ Chief Seattle

When Is There Enough?

It was inconvenient 

when the power 

went out today. 

A great swath of the city 

went dark. 

No way to boil water 

for coffee - it was time!  

No TV - a program interrupted, 

no radio…….a video call planned 

with a friend for a long distance chat. 

What to do? 

no heat, 

no hot water, 

no light except 

from cloudy skies.

There was no room for me to pout 

only room for me to be grateful

that I had water, light and a big sweater,

a roof over my head and safety.

I enjoyed a good chat with my friend, 

in the quiet of my home, 

using my cell phone.

“He who knows that enough is enough will always have enough.”

~ Lao Tzu

While the Music Plays

Here I sit, head resting in my hand, 

hoping that the beautiful waltz 

playing will snatch a brilliant idea 

from mid air ~ 

that space between the notes ~ 

and grace me with words that 

flow as beautifully. 

But then I’m not an orchestra, 

and can’t imagine being 

the conductor! 

So I’ll just tap these few words 

while the music changes 

from a symphony of waltzes 

to Feelin’ Groovy.

“Music is forever; music should grow and mature with you, 

following you right on up until you die.”

~ Paul Simon

It Hurts!

It hurts ~

to even think 

about our history 

gobbled up 

as a mere commodity 

when, as immigrants to 

both countries, our ancestors 

left the homes of their birth

to sail thousands of miles

to be sprung free to learn a new land, 

to build new homes and communities 

that nurtured generations of families 

who are now faced with 

a nightmare of nothingness 

because someone sees us only 

as a commodity.

“There is just so much hurt, disappointment and oppression 

one can take… the line between reason and madness grows thinner.

~ Rosa Parks

We are the Reason

In our nation 

we can only see 

in weighty words like 

infrastructure, 

politicians, 

governance, 

and political partys. 

I suppose that last is 

two smaller words, 

but they carry 

the same weight

as the others. 

Those we don’t see 

are those of us that 

make necessary those 

grand ideas peopled by

bow ties and natty business suits, 

pearls and smart business suits. 

Those of us that protect our streets, 

teach our children, 

heal and care for the sick, 

fill out forms in whatever job we do,

clerks in grocery stores, farmers;

bus drivers, street cleaners, 

garbage collectors, tax preparers……

I know I’ve missed some of the multitude ~

We are all the reason for those 

in positions of power and decision.

“If you look at life one way, there is always cause for alarm.”

~ Elizabeth Bowen

 

No Longer Teenagers

Between

two sides of life 

there is a space as wide 

as the ocean
as small as the pause 

between notes

In those places and spaces

we live and roam

smelling flowers, 

revelling in the music of ages

clambering over rocks, with 

travels under majestic prairie skies, 

hearing geese calling their mates

watching ducks splash down

on wide open lakes

standing on sandy shores 

with our arms open wide

for as long as we can and 

as long as our will takes us

tho’ our bodies may run down and 

forget we are no longer teenagers.

still we move on within 

the circle of the life 

we have come to know and cherish.

“Find ecstasy in life; the mere sense of living is joy enough.”

~ Emily Dickinson

Saturday

It was a weekend upended 

by a walk in the sunshine when 

the laundry lay in wait for me. 

The troubles of politics, 

pushed aside,

were not invited along either. 

Not fit for Saturday afternoon 

conversation at a luncheon with 

friends when more important things 

like books, the menu, grandchildren, 

who did what and when and of course 

ice-y sidewalks needed our attention.

“The trick is to enjoy life. Don’t wish away 

your days, waiting for better ones ahead.”

~ Marjorie Pay Hinckley, author