I’ve honed few coping skills
for I’ve been mostly blessed  –
have little practice
in the art of overcoming.
But the contingencies
of getting old are pressing me
insisting that I learn
t deal with darkness
near me and within.
So I am going back to school
and hoping that my coping
will  be improved.

From my recliner
I see them scrubbing
oil soaked birds.
The birds look like:
“What the hell is going on?”
as they endure
the ministrations
that will save them.
There are still
plenty of good folk
offering various kinds of healing
to our ravaged world.
I sit here and applaud
and sometimes write a check.

They haven’t died yet
so they don’t know
what’s in store.
When they do
some of them will be surprised
and some will say
“I told you so.”
I’ve no business
writing this
for I’m waiting
like everybody else
to find out
and I’m in no hurry.
So don’t listen to me –
one who plays around
with mysteries
but has no firm handle
on what’s  in store.

The telephone pole
that at one time
seemed intrusive
to the beauty of
the line of trees
that border on
our back yard boundary
has become virtually invisible
not because of
an act of nature
but because
our eyes have learned
to refuse to allow its shape
to deter our joy of seeing
the elegance of
our changing seasons.

How easy it is
to ignore
what we do not wish to see.

I used to think
that oughts and shoulds
would hinder good –
that freedom to exert one’s will
was how one ought to go
to grow into the one
God has in mind.

But now that I am old
I think to temper freedom
is a good idea –
not to destroy it
but to constrain impulse enough
that one can honor
what other generations learned
that proved to work for them.

She said:
“Don’t tell anybody
but did you know…….?.”
Then she said to another;
“ Don’t tell anybody
but did you know…….?”
And then she said to still another:
“Don’t tell anybody
but did you know…….?”

The word got around the neighborhood
almost as fast as it would have
had there been electronics.

The fields are white
with Queen Anne’ Lace.
The fields that recently turned green
remind me of the last snow fall
back when we yearned  for spring.
The lace, once harbinger of summer
abounds this year
more than I’ve ever seen before.
I don’t know what has caused
this extreme display of beauty
and do not need to know
in order to enjoy.

When
you have done
something
to make one
glad
what you
have done
to accomplish
the transaction
is often
a greater gift
to you
than the one
you gave.

The kite was a poem
i launched into the sky
and I held it with a string of ink.
The kite danced to cadences
stirred by the wind –
and it looked beautiful up there –
so beautiful  I wished to pull it down
and share with you.
But the string broke
and the poem fluttered and fell down
and though I searched
I could not find it.

It is said that he recorded
his intercessory prayers
and when answered
he made note of them.
I admire
the clarity of his faith.

I’m uncertain
of what to ask for
and hesitate to claim
that my overtures to God
are heard.
Still I go at it
as I have for years
just because I must
and trust
it makes a difference.