The Gardener moves  
a plant suddenly.
The plant does not know  
where it will go,  
knowing only home  
familiar place  
with friends all around  
close and touching  
unaware  
they are too close  
to grow well.
The new place    
is open, spacious  
with old friends  
of long ago.
Friends at home  
in grief conclude  
that he had died.

Earthrising
   caught us all
by surprise,
   unprepared
to see,
   for the first time
how singular the earth
   floats in space.
We thought the moon
   exploration,
new worlds,
   were the goal
instead,
   humanity amazed
to discovered oneness:
   one planet,
one homeland,
   one human race.

“Take off your clothes!”
It was strange,  
but we did,  
the whole room full  
of women and girls  
watched by male guards.
“Take off all jewelry!”
Bracelet and necklace  
were easy –  
off they came.
But earrings were a problem.
I’d kept loosing them,  
and still would.
They slipped  
from my pierced ears  
so mother had  
them soldiered closed.
“Now,” she said,  
“one pair  
will last your life,”  
and they almost did  
except for now.  
They must come off  
but couldn’t.
The simple, efficient,    
final solution?
Cut my ears!

Broken glass  
filled the streets  
dignity destroyed  
and livelihoods.
Thousand years of culture burned  
in one planned
“random” riot –
government approved.
Barbarity arose  
against imagined enemies  
who were not.
Broken glass  
shattered lives  
terror reigned  
against helpless millions –
nations stood unmoving.
Never again.  Never…    
NEVER AGAIN!

Orange orb  
silently rising  
from the land  
witness to eons  
and ages  
of human history  
and so much, much more.
Primitives gazed in wonder  
and awe  
and some prayed.  
Later men adored.  
Later still, we walked  
and will soon live  
and work  
and travel far.
It pulled us up,  
taught respect,  
and sent us to the stars.

Metropolis, Chokia now,
of the ancient prairie,  
center of civilization  
and sacred mysteries:  
the observatory circle  
of wooden poles  
and the sacred hill  
for the holy ones,
center of network trade  
thousands of miles linked -  
all was right  
and ordered.
Smaller cities around,  
and far away,  
formed a coherent world,
the sun rose,  
the sun set -  
at the proper times.

Then the Spirits departed:  
rain ceased,  
crops died,  
hunting fled -  
and the world began to fail:  
starving, dying -  
the center did not hold.
Survivors scattered…  

and no one knows the end.

On a lonely country road,
gravel,
winding through hills,
along the creeks;
two friends,
a drive of relaxation:

Where does this road go?
What will we see?

Around a curve
suddenly
in the trees -
a herd of buffalo
standing
but too still to be true:
silhouettes with details
accurately painted,
quickly passed –

wishing they were real.