The Gathering Dust

Living inside the moment,

Temporal things

Pass me by

On their march to permanence

 

Attached to everything

But themselves,

They stand as false Icons

To a time once lived–then put away

 

A trophy case of remembrance…

Enshrining what was lost

In the gathering

Dust

 

Never rediscovered…

Defining what death means

In the gathering

Dust

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2014)

 

Goodbye Tomorrow

A voice goes silent

 in the distant wind

 

No tracks to follow

 no path within

 

Muses cry

 as shadows fade

 

Their chorus faint

 with dreams unmade

 

The past abandoned

 tomorrow gone

  

This moment orphaned

 the night so long

 

Goodbye tomorrow

 farewell today

 

All hope now fleeting

 —time castaway

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2018)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

New Hampshire Dawn

Coming from nowhere

Going the same

The tracks in front

Pointing to

Tracks behind

The wind on the lake

Reminding

That I am still a guest

The snow on the ice

An invitation

Begging acceptance

New Hampshire Winters

Are white

In my consciousness

And frozen in their

Clarity

Even whiter

Dawns

Out of the stillness

A Moose crashes

Through the snow

Never acknowledging

My presence

His majesty

Confirming everything

That unfound I’ve lost

His spirit cries out

And with quiet respect

I follow him across

The frozen lake

Leaving tracks of memory

One final time

  —never to be seen again

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2014)

 

Four Sentiments: 10/10/2018

Ending In Regret

 

Most of us wait

  for what few of us get

 

Then start the excuses

  —that end in regret

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2014)

 

   Inside Your Heart

 

With your every smile,

  my life grows longer

 

Both on this earth

  —and inside your heart

 

(To My Grandson Hunter: January, 2014)

 

The Felony Of Language

 

The felony of language

   is within the larceny

  of being neither right

    —nor wrong

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2014)

 

      Unspoken Dawn

 

The morning returns

  new verses unheard

  rising eternal

   —in the unspoken dawn

 

(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: January, 2014)