The clouds, full of themselves,
Puffed up like cotton candy,
Looming overhead, more tasteful
Than that sticky carnival abomination
The sweet powdery stuff children
Love and adults allow 'cause it's
A special day. The clouds are
Always special, gracefully sitting
Overhead, puffed up but not so vain
As to make more of themselves
Than is appropriate and seemly
Category Archives: Gratitude
Smile
Never again will your
Smile greet me, broad
With delight, as if I
Bring the bright light
Home, giving me your
Sunshine for mine. It
Is a greeting I wish
I could hold in real
Life, not just in my
Mind's eye, in memory
Never again will your
Love shine its welcome
Upon me as I turn the
Corner and catch your
Eye, as happy to see
You as to be seen and
Welcomed, a smile for
Every muttered I love
You, for each kiss you
Accept, as pleased as
You are pleased. Never
Again, only in memory
And dreams. I am glad
For the memory of your
Smile. It is all I have
This acknowledgement
Of our love.
I remember this
You hated the word moist
I never knew why. Nor did
You, when asked to explain.
This is a memory this early
Morning. I also remember
How you shuddered when I
Described a food as silky.
Verbal quirks. Some of
These memories are edged
Forward by serendipity, I
Recall, seeing Marisa Tomei
In a YouTube bit and my
Review of her in a play
Years ago, in the first
Row, your knees touched
Hers in a scene in which
She sits on the stage apron.
You were delighted. She
Waved to you at her curtain
Call for Marie and Bruce.
You were even more delighted
What will surprise me today
For you are everywhere and
I am delighted.
Tomorrow
When I was young, I looked ahead
To years I would spend facing the
Great unknowns, the unexpected.
When I was young, the future was
Not in the rearview but it loomed
Near and far. The future was just
Where I wanted it. Where it should
Loom. It was all my tomorrows. I
Loved its mystery. I anticipated
The twists and turns but did not
Know where it would lead me nor
Where I would follow. Today, the
Tomorrows may be fewer but I do
Not know what that future holds.
Now, that I am not young, I hold
The hope that the future brings a
Little closer and tighter. It will be
A surprise, I hope. Unexpected, a
Mystery lies in my tomorrows, or
Maybe if I am lucky there will be
Many mysteries. Still even now.
Along Northern Blvd
The churches along Northern
Boulevard are sprinkled next
To eateries, intermittent but
Fewer than the restaurants,
Of all denominations that dot
My route. A taste of America,
As befits a melting pot, its mix
Of cuisines a potpourri of all
Our origins, in tribute to where
You're from and where I'd like
To visit
Walking his dog
He wears open-toed and
Backless sandals, as if
To confirm that it's his
Sunday and he's still or
Should still be relaxing
In his jammies, or would
Be, if the little pup hadn't
Forced him to the street
Words
I listen not for meaning,
I cannot understand but
Every sixth word, but for
The rhythm, the pitch, I
Feel the music pulsing in
The delicate delivery. It
Is deliberate, written with
Care, I know this from an
English rendition I heard
First, and that knowledge
Has me listening, careful,
Listening deliberately, for
That sixth word I might
Catch, as if my butterfly
Net is dense enough to
Keep foreign words from
Escaping into the ether
I listen for the pleasure
Sound brings as words
Hit the air, reverberating
With sense or nonsense
I listen, not for meaning,
For the pleasing rhythms
Silhouettes
The perfect light spilling
Through the window,
Splattering a path, a rug
At her feet, the light
Scatters as she steps on
That silhouette swath,
Then reforms its shape
A shadow in reverse,
The photo-negative made
Out of moonlight and
Window panes leads her
Across the room
Walking on clouds
Science tells me that
When fog envelops us
It's just low-lying clouds,
Clouds at waist-level, it's
Cold, the vapor gathers
Into fog, thin clouds at
Street level
It’s clear
It's such a clear, such
A bright blue day, that
Every object I see in
The distance is clearer
And brighter, reveals
Its own outlines with
Moral clarity and the
Strength of defiance.
That water tower is
Defined by its bulk
And by the lines of its
Shape held high in the
Clear blue, traced by it.
There are, for instance
Also windows that shine
Today, looking out and
Inward, brightened by
The clarity, clarified by
The brightness.
Tamara, really 