Gentle arrhythmic plinks
down from the plumbing vent
through the stove hood
then plink-a-plank-a-clank        clank    clank  
clank   clank  clank clankclankclank
the roof rumbling now
soft flashes beyond the blinds
the deep throated distant thunder
tumbling over clouds and air
into our living room
where
I am grateful
for a dry pad and pen.

Yesterday I worked,
deliberately moved about
doing the chores of the house
how did I generate that joy inside?
It was as if I were a walking wire
charged with electricity
motivated
moved by my recall of her
washing clothes, cooking,
all the while her body in pain.
Her love inspired mine.
The surging power of Love.
Rejoice: to feel joy again.
What a delight!

celebrity TV interviews
preening for the screen
they leave me hollow
but what am I expecting?
authenticity?
ha! rare if not impossible
as the camera shouts at the soul.

audacious introspection
from one who thinks he is enlightened
in a special way
blissfully unaware of the grip
of ego.

i say this aware
and repentant
of my pride.

I still remember him
his skin a shade of black
eyes off kilter
his red and white stick
propped between his knees.
But here we were in the same group
so I had to look at him
listen to part of his life.
He had the beginnings of a smile
but an overall sense of sadness
as if part of him was in rebellion
against his blindness.
If I had passed him on a sidewalk
I would have wanted to look away
to avoid dealing with his reality
and my own.

Not wanting
or unable to notice
the hole in someone’s life or vision
seems so normal.
After all, we can only take in so much
from moment to moment.
But it’s so easy for me to escape
knowing the pervasiveness
of my own blindness.

even a moment of it
fills the dry corners of the soul
with light, peace
and gentleness

He was introduced to her
all the while looking through her
to see someone who mattered,
who was smart and degreed enough
for his time, after all, she was just the wife.

That gathering and others awakened her.
Now she insisted hubby’s clock hands
be wrapped around the kids’ small fingers.
He’d learn to tick with their hearts as he lingered.
The volume of her voice turned up a click or two
her own determination gently gliding through.
Not hawklike but now with a new edge
she, with fresh wings was no longer a fledge
as she declared she too would make the grade,
have her career, no longer invisible in the shade.

And… now she’s in demand as a speaker of note
with expertise surpassed only by her heart
she leans and listens with wisdom to impart,
life’s struggles and southern roots lend a common touch -
soaked in family love - no need for titles like doctor and such.