A Modest Showing

Waves rush ashore,

leave their marks,

then retreat,

leaving them

hurriedly self-erased.



Compelling Conversation

Those two mourning doves

sat in the road before me.

Their conversation

must have been intense because

even as my car

drew near they stayed. Did they each

want to have the final word?



For My Son, Andy

Rooted in the rich soil of the past,

nurtured by the present light,

he brings forth fruit to feed

all who choose to pick it.



Here I Am

Sitting in silent spaciousness,

I open myself 

to what is

in all its




Words Enough And Time

There are enough words

 to go around. There’s no need

for me to covet yours,

 and yet somehow you seem

 to find the perfect ones 

while I fuss, fumble and groan,

trying first this and then that.

 You take words and shape them into song

while I stutter and stumble along.

Still, if I keep practicing

maybe I’ll turn stumbles into song.