Gone, Not Gone

with all the world and hearts on fire

still, I sit here in my little grief

The Pear Tree

An off-cue moment of freedom                   make use of this space while there is calm

answers to be found

breathe in oxygen of coffee and incense

meditate, back straight, head in clouds 

sunlight presses upon my eyelids

open to bare swaying trees 

pruned for another cycle 

two birds alight on a limb

bound by northern winds

Life in Cat Years

In the overstuffed chair

I remember how you nestled

into a spiral, my favorite geometry those last nights

before you went away

mornings were always wild 

it was how you saw life, 

your job my alarm 

a bell rung on the farm

where coffee and eggs waited on chores, feed bowls, sparkling water

pretending you and your brother 

were not needy

more so, I saw essential meaning

for decades tended others of your kind

who so softly appeared

heartbreakingly departed 

a steady stream of maternal gems

My Voice

the sound of my own name wakes me, startled and summoned, 

   I wonder

whose face belongs

to this ringing?

a wraith that trails through crooked stairs, empty hallway

I have been resting my brain’s waves and neurons

from worry and tiredness 

tattered elusive edge 

of the sacred dream dimension 

not mother or father, nor children 

call out

make certain no one is in danger 

a voice heard from beneath bedcovers in the middle of the night                    

    ignite

clusters of latent thoughts surface 

create a clear, precise tone

so much like my own