What Sustains Us

In these bleak times
What sustains us?

Not science.
Surely not politics.

Our connection to each other.
A smile behind a mask,
A good morning,
An acknowledgment of our 

Virtual, high tech;
We work at intimacy
And as simple as 
Willow napping with me,
Samantha bounding towards me, 
And Cathy, the best friend-
lover a person could have.

This morning on the river,
Perseverance in the rain.
Mistakes and unforced errors.
Live to fish another day.

August 29, 2020

Another Sunset

(a beautiful poem and photo by my friend Caroline Donnola; don’t know if the poem inspired the photo or vice versa)

The sun has set
and a second sunset appears—
that last burst of light.

The sky swirls
into multiple patterns—
pink and purple streaks,
ribbons of brilliant hues glowing
against a hot, gold disappearing sun.
A light display
hovering over a backlit dark blue sea—
shadows, clouds, water, sky—
until that moment
when the light is gone
and the darkness arrives.

The fishermen come
and dip their rods into the gentle waves.
No one catches much,
it’s just an excuse
to enjoy the view.

It’s been here all along
but it took a deadly virus
for me to take the time
to appreciate this spectacle
and wonder
what else might be lurking
in plain sight.

After great pain, a formal feeling comes

(this is a test post and a poem I like)


After great pain, a formal feeling comes –
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –
The stiff Heart questions ‘was it He, that bore,’
And ‘Yesterday, or Centuries before’?

The Feet, mechanical, go round –
A Wooden way
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought –
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone –

This is the Hour of Lead –
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow –
First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –


Autumn’s chill on the river.

A softening of sunlight;

Summer’s warmth and

Brightness fade.


Live in autumn —

Play out your hand

with the cards you’ve been dealt.


Fewer moves to make,

Fewer pieces to play with.

Make each move more deliberate.

Make time for love.


Do it well.

There may not be another round.


And, this morning on the river —

Forget about the one that got away.


August 7, 2020