Thank you, Willie*

Where are the loves of yesteryear?
Safely stowed in my careful heart,
where though long ago lost,
they still radiate warmth and beauty
and whisper to me what is possible
and why desire must never end.
  ~mce

Thank you, Al.*

I was born poor, came up hard,
learned early to fight. I didn't die.

Streaming fire struck me three times
from the sky; I didn't die.

I lost my money, wife and children
to a bout of madness; I didn't die.

Many drugs, much alcohol, dead friends,
despair and depression; I didn't die.

Life is what I overcame and survived.

Life is the practice of suffering and joy
that I will continue until I die.
   mce

For Louise*

When we meet,
we will know;
there is no fast,
only slow.

  mce

Swirling
  

Gusts out of the west
Burst through our open window
Blowing books, pictures, tapes, and papers
clear off the top of the bookshelf.
It's nearly August and the dry leaves sigh
as the wavy winds rise and fall.
the shadows freckle and sparkle
on the floors and furniture of this room.
the doors of the house open and close
with minds of their own, attuned to the moving air.
at first faraway then near, nature's breath
marches incessantly through the treetops.
this sunny day itself is excited about being.
irrepressible is the goodness of earth.
on Wednesdays like this the hues of the blues
of the skies themselves move lovingly among us.
a house sparrow anchors herself in the chain link fence.
the  yellow swallowtail butterfly takes a low flight path
just above the heads of the flowers.

it's easy to give up writing
have done it quite oftentimes
to focus on harder things
and not waste on easy rhymes!

each time i give up the pen
achieve some wonderful feat
i am that man once again
who does for others little bit!

whenever give the keys rest
close the door of poetryland
come upon a chance not to waste
to extend someone a helping hand!

times i clipped the bard's wings
landed my mind on the ground
met these eyes many things
doing which joys knew no bound!