Bony Branches

I once beheld
cerulean skies of summer
while standing under bony boughs
of sleepy winter trees










They twisted in a languid stretch,
to soak in rays of saffron
Their hands extended longingly
as far as they could reach


There was no place
for doves to hide above me,
Nor did they seem concerned to be
without their leafy screens

I understood their fearlessness,
and felt their sense of safety,
 As paralyzed with wonder,
I breathed the same warm breeze.

I took all these pictures--and a few more--yesterday evening and this afternoon as I went walking around our little town. Trees are just a fascinating subject for me: the young, beautifully designed ones, growing in balanced harmonious sculptures, and the old ones, maimed by countless ice storms, yet sprouting forth with stubborn new limbs to form exotic shapes against the sky. Anyway, here are a few more for your viewing delight.

One Warm Walking Day

Thanks God,
for the sudden flame-peach sunrise
In the midst of winter--one, warm, walking day,
And tree limbs, naked, stretching out to touch it--
The blue! the yellow! After all that gray!
For pearls of pigeons spearing through the sky
like silver beads on slender strands of chain
exploding with a joy that leaves me humbled,
Thanks for the fact that You would even deign
to answer a prayer I knew I shouldn't pray,
When I asked--in the winter--for one, warm, walking day.

Salamanders

Zaya is allergic to everything furry--dogs, cats, rabbits, hamsters, even mice. Yet he loves animals and wants a pet, even if it has to be a fish. This fall his parents bought him a Tokay gecko. Unfortunately they didn't read the fine print at the animal store and found themselves with a vicious "pit bull" of the gecko family, a creature that's fun to look at, but can't be petted and cuddled. So, after a visit to the high school science room today, Zaya has decided that he wants a Salamander. He says they are cute. Well, maybe they are in a plastic, slimy sort of way.

Time and Eternity

Everywhere we run we hit the walls of time.
Harsh deadlines rising grimly to remind us
But aren't dimensions meant to give us freedom?
How is it this anomaly confines us?

We run on lines, we swim on planes,
We jump and dive through ups and downs of space.
Every new dimension
adds new roads--both to and fro.
We have a choice; the arrows point both ways.

Until we get to time, the broken blessing.
Time is a ray and not a normal line,
A one-way escalator built in segments to the end.
And we're carried...sometimes seeing, sometimes blind.

So I bear a desperate knowledge that compels me,
While running with the wind against my face
To savor each sensation, for I know this very minute
I'll not ever see again--not in this place.

As those I love desert the earth, I fathom
That our mortality is the curse that's broken time,
It's now a cage, a box, a moving pathway
Of stairs you can descend, but never climb.

And then eternity spreads vast around me
An awesome universe of endless joy
And looking back, confused by all this freedom,
I finally understand: Time was the door.