We walked two miles through July wheat fields
that undulated  beneath Sunday morning sun
like golden swans.

The pond was glacier stone smooth, and canopied
by silver maple and swamp oak; willows lined
the  banks.

Miriam unfastened her hair, tossed her blouse
over my shoulders,  kicked her cut-offs
toward the boat’s bow,

and dove.

Shedding todays like a snake sheds its skins
slithering in and out of dreams and nightmares
eyes blue beneath old unwanted yesterdays
I will dance like the Cobra to your flute
and strike and strike until a poets voice sings
heard aloud in the deep depth of Mankind
where a sister and brother may meet equal
in the celestial pureness of forever and ever,

Roses, Roses, Roses
Yellow, pink and red
Dreaming in a flower bed

Ducks afloat
upon the pond
Gliding graceful
To and fro
Searching for a piece of bread
Thrown from the pier
on which two children perch.

While I may search

for peace, of which I don't deserve
for struggling through this unforgiving world
for making many errors on the way

But, now it's done
I see so clearly
There's only peace
a price so dearly
paid for me by One

I don't think he knows
how much
he fills my
heart;
how
his movements
have made themselves
at home inside..
he makes me want
to push back
the furniture
just so
I can watch
him dance

beautiful people out there and time so few
to acknowledge each and every one of them
and tomorrow  comes so urgently
without pause relentlessly
I wish to write each and every one of them
and tell them what beauty they bring
to me and how I feel
but
I have to generalize I guess
and suspect if I write this
they who  are deserving
will know
they glow
a little more
than they do
now