Hiking the high trails escaping the summer heat pursuing only what may appear. Hours of sharing the long wait hoping for this chance. A child’s eye seeing.
These and more.
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What We See When We Look Closely
is heroism on a grand scale
To live is to be heroic
To endure–remarkable
To have courage–required
Pushing each other through the
long halls, one cared for the other
caring, roles changing with time
A kind word, a gentle touch
an understanding propels them
forward into the unknown
Trusting, hoping, a little more time please
Spouse, sibling, child, parent
all taking a turn
Young, strong, old, frail
each grabbing the handles and
moving the chair another floor
another building another encounter
as the hours go by
Where does this strength come from
Is the human spirit so resilient
the desire to survive so strong
the hope against odds so pervasive
They understand, those who work here
Though alarming to see, this mass of
injured and ill humanity gives them purpose
bringing forth kindness and patience
What we see when we look closely is
one caring for another; unbiased, unbound,
freely given love
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Bronc Riding
Hopping the ditch
left hand on the wheel
right hand up waving the
beer can she sits that mower
like a bronc rider leaving the
bucking chute on a wild one
looking to make 8 seconds
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Waiting
Rooms merge, one like another
Alcoves in browns and gray and
corridors stretching on like the
night highway under a moonless sky
the end only imagined.
Here we stay in synchronized emotions
a shared experience more accepted
than welcome the way a seashell is
pummeled in a roiling surf as tides
ebb and flow.
Each is called in turn, each is chosen
Come with me, trust me, help me
as all look on
waiting
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Hello World
Is it just me
Is someone else here
I thought you knew
Well, maybe not
How can I say it
delicately of course
no need to cause alarm
but it’s over
They put it away yesterday
the last of them
into a museum
I suppose
A tree, a flower, flowing
stream, some animal and
the man. All there for
someone to see
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Nature and Spirit
Stirring the bottom a cloud of fine sand rises
obscuring what was seen clearly through
spring water in this glacier carved lake.
A slight chop from southerly breeze as
boats glide rhythmically by paddle
stroke over sparkling wave.
His preference the sun filled side where
water is shallow and the sand revealing of
secrets to probing stick and hand.
The island small rising steeply in
mixed oak and pine with trails easy
for a boy to climb reaching summit
in the time it takes for sand to settle
and a view to open.
Unknown to him now are the connections made
one in nature with another; always there, through all,
encompassing all in spirit riding with the wind
falling with the rain up to the top of the tree
and to the bottom of the sea to be stirred by a boy
curious about what exists.
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Nature and Spirit
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