Love

2018, Summer

The river had flooded its banks that day
Swirling around tree trunks and stranding
Muddy puddles and mosquitos along our path
We jumped the puddles and swatted bugs
I walked only a step ahead under the sun

Puffy clouds floated above when we froze
Barely breathing as that electric blue dart
Whizzed then helicopter hovered over cloudy puddles
Four translucent silver wings glittering

Then eight

Two dragonflies dancing in unabashed performance

One simple moment of life affirming perfection
Standing inches apart, inhaling magic

Minutes of awe laying a path
As wide eyes absored joyful views
Drenched in nature’s excellence

1982

The last drunk
A slow motion drive
An innocent parked car crushed
A spaghetti jumble of steel

Bent fenders infused with heartbreak
Bumpers twisted in sorrowful tears

Today, the pain, again
Vicarious aguish as the world cries
Cheering the broken with love
And that overflowing kindness

Then, Recovery

Wonderful pain
Painful wonder
Diamond hard
Glowing beauty
As stunning
As life

Mother’s words
Explode

“It’s a good life,” she said

Inviting wholehearted
Joy

Bask Joyfully

Hover in sweet silence
Shaded by cool leaves
Shrouded, gently rocking
In the sweet peace of bird
Song and quiet breezes

Stillness.

Drift in sweet meditation
Calmed by shallow breath
Swaddled, lovingly swaying
In the sweet peace of bird
Song and quiet breezes

Stillness

Bask joyfully
In the underbelly
Of your open heart.

Nourish

Seven AM rowdy bird screams reverb in the oppressive heat
Blasting unknown calls as others sing secret lyrics.
The chaotic symphony infuses my morning with calm.
Serenity amid the clatter.
The definition of contradiction.

Peace

I dry my seat from overnight dew as
A shaky speckled fawn sniffs
around the edges of the patio below.
Her saddle a constellation of white dots.
White tail flicking intermittently some
unseen fly as she moves out of my
Coffee spot gaze.

Welcome

On this other new dawn the weather is cooler. Relief.
The mother stands in the mulch
Just beyond the pool deck munching grass.
Yesterday’s fawn bounds toward her mom.
Baby’s head under belly tilts, grasping teat,
Sucking hard as her baby tail wags at warp speed.
Rhythmically lifting front hoof in time or excitement,
Like any joyful baby thrilling at mama connection.

Nourish

Whale Tails

They were everywhere that cloudy evening
Gasping dusk beauty in every direction
Straight up vertical geyser sprays
Interspersed with barnacle covered
Dripping wet tails gracefully curved
Before the perfect Greg Louganis dive
Sucking a churning watery sink hole
Disappearing black with random white spots
Nature’s quiet clear reminder that even
Quintessential beauty is blemished

Your Fine Life

Don’t fly too long under the radar.
Your fine life is impatiently waiting.
It’s true. (Believe it). You’re missed.

There’s also real truth here:
Deep jagged wounds need light and air to fully heal.
This other truth is also real:
Unsightly heart scars are as inevitable as death.

The time will come when you look
Into your own precious core and
Rejoice at jagged beauty darned whole.
And rejoice at a reconstructed heart.

Broadway Day

Crack of dawn
Sisters
Train Station
Amtrak
Coffee
Big Apple
Crowded streets
High Line
Ramon with pork and egg
Cursed Child (Part 1)
Hogwarts
Albus & Scorpius
Friendship & love
Fathers
Hermione & Ron
Calamari & Eggplant Parmesan
Cursed Child (Part 2)
Souvenir T-shirts
Fiery Effects
Death Eaters & Dementors
Baby Harry’s Pram
Mother’s love
Fathers & Sons
Standing ovation
Curtain Calls
Hot Fudge Sundaes
7 miles
Hotel Pillows

Emma

It was magic. Unquestionably.

The timing that is.

The miraculous decision to shave her head at that precise moment. Lobbying her parents with a Powerpoint presentation on the benefits of a hairless head.

A teenaged Bruce Wayne.

A wide-eyed Peter Parker.

Imagine her list: So much cooler. No more shampoo. Money saved. Free-flowing drains.

But what about these?
They’ll listen to the girl without hair.
A modern day Samson in reverse.
And, most urgent:
Please release the magic.

How miraculous that the sheering occurred at the moment it was needed. Mere moments before tragedy struck.

The tragic and magic coexisted on camera for 11 minutes. “I call BS” flowed through tears from the fierce bald-headed girl with an unwavering gaze and ferocious courage.

And the nation listened.

It was magic that the timing was perfect for a hero’s birth.

Then she lead with a devastating “would never” refrain before standing strong, blinking through the pain.

And the excruciating silence.

Silence

Silence

Silence

The courage to be silent.
A superpower.
Pure magic.

A hero was needed and she was born with an electric razor and a kind resilient heart. From mind-numbing tragedy she emerged with a spellbinding look. An unwavering heart.

And razor focus.

She’s hope for our future.

True magic.