on a vase of tulips: the pinks whites yellows reaching upward outward way over the edge opened wide to their silken centers until inside out suffused with the vibrant morning light they surrender who they are with wordless grace leaving only small soft footprints across the kitchen table should I wish to follow
Another “golden oldie” from two decades ago, first appearing in North Shore Magazine in 2005.
As if I hadn’t walked this path
thousands of times before,
I walked slowly from tree to aging tree,
crunching through their brilliant fallen leaves.
Rounding a corner, the boat-dotted sea
rolled towards an undisclosed horizon.
As if I, too, might not know what lay ahead,
I found myself, for once,
standing down from the helm,
sailed by a mounting wind,
waved through the branching shadows,
no hand to stay the heart’s rudder.
As if there are paths within a path,
many journeys, but only one destination,
my feet rose and fell on their own. Begin here, where the current is strongest, my heart said.
And I strode through that tide of colour,
all the world new again, and I, young.
Another(older) poem from my chapbook “Stealing Eternity”.