CLAMS, GULLS, DELIVERANCE

It came to me

In the middle of the night,

I would save them.

At morning light

I’d run along the water’s edge

Frightening the gulls away.

Each time they’d land,

I’d charge at them again.

They’d shriek about

The injustice of it, but

I’d be deaf to their grievance.

The clams and crabs

Washed up on the beach this morning

Will not become bird breakfast.

They’ll live one more day

Because of me.

If I save hundreds of them,

It’d be like giving one of them

Another year to live.

The plan was perfect,

Magnificent even.

My soul was smiling

As I waited for dawn.

Lying awake for hours

At 5 a.m. my eyes closed.

I was drowning in daylight

As I awoke.  I’d be too late

To save them.

My dream soured,

My soul no longer smiling,

I hope they forgive me.

SOUVENIR

I could not stop                                                           

Spring turning to summer,

Shirts came off

She was exposed,

An island souvenir

From my winter escape

I refused to explain.                                                          

I took her north

Over my heart,

A small gesture

Considering her

Generosity.

A tawny beauty

At home on the sand,

A mystery to me.

My only regret,

I dare not return.

IN THE SHOWER

Is life so sour

Or solitude so sweet,

That I’d sit in the shower

And stare at my feet.

We were woefully wrong

From the damp day we met.

I shouldn’t have gone along

Could have saved rivers of regret.

Today I went fishing

Seeking relief for an hour,

Now I am wishing

I had stayed in the shower.

GOD SMILED

What would you do

If God told a joke

Lose all respect

Give your priest a poke?

What would you say

If God liked to laugh

Double your doubts

Cut your faith in half?

What  would you think

If God played hide and seek

Decide he’s for children,

The sick and the weak?

What will you confess

If at heaven’s door,

“Oh God, I messed up,

Should have laughed and played more.”

ON JESS TURNING THIRTY-FIVE

I used to think, in some ways

Turning 35 was the mid-point

Of my life, or in other words,

Half way to death;

My father died At 70.

When I turned 40

I felt halfway through

a life of 80 years;

The same at 50. There my math stopped,

A life of 100 years seemed long enough.

My mother told me, after 35                               .

My body would change for the worse;

I’d grow a belly and when

I got out of bed in the morning,

My back would hurt. She was a prophet.

Happy birthday daughter Jessica;

At thirty-five you are only one-third of the way

Through your glorious life and although your body

May decide to complain, there’s more rainbow

Ahead of you, than rain.


SEA GLASS PEOPLE - Portraits in Words and Watercolors   (available on Amazon.com)

ADVICE TO SUZANNE - AFTER

Daisy Study by Pat Morgan

                 

Open your sails                                                                 

Let the wind carry you 

It never fails

Your heart will open too.

It is true and tried

What do you have to lose

Your pain will subside

You’re done paying your dues.

Navigate with your heart

Know I am your friend

I promise a new start

Love will find you again.

EGO AMIGO

Your ego

Ain’t your amigo

My dear friend.

It will taunt you

Even haunt you

Until you bend.

If you hunt it

Or confront it

It’ll self-defend.

No give and take

A coiled snake

Bites in the end.


SEA GLASS PEOPLE - Portraits in Words and Watercolors   (available on Amazon.com)

KNIGHT DREAMS

King Arthur was wiser,

More understanding

And very bright.

Lancelot was young and

Full of himself, but at least

He was a knight.

They came after dark

Into my room

No longer able to wait. 

“Come with us,

Join our ranks.  You’ll

Meet a noble fate.”

Find me a horse and

Shiny armor,

Even if on loan.

What I wouldn’t give

To save someone’s life,

Maybe my own.

STEAK AND EGGS

A steak

Doesn't look like a steer,

Steers commit all

They have to give.

An egg doesn't look

Like a hen,
At least hens

Get longer to live.

Bacon doesn't look

Like a pig, but

We do when we take

More than we need.

If steak could still moo

Or bacon still oink,

We'd surely eat more

Grown from seed.

SECOND THOUGHTS

No second thoughts:

They only limit,

Say stop,

Promise a fall

Like a nervous parent.

They are born in fear;

They never come from God.

MOTHER RUSSIA

From deep in my marrow
With her icy blue winter and
Frozen unyielding ground
Too hard to harbor deep roots,
She cries, but I'll never call her home.

My Russian grandparents must have
Lovingly laughed with raw cheeks
Protecting a warm spot in their hearts
Thinking of their children, else
They never would have made love.

My American parents never spoke
Of a motherland so I was silent too.
Their parents' frigid past failed to melt
Leaving an unexplained thirst.
No stories of survival survived.

Yet, I am most certain they are there
In my soul's DNA. For at the symphony
When the strings strike a minor chord
Or the horns blow a dissonant sound,
I respond beyond reason.



I AM SEA GLASS - A Collection of Poetic Pieces 
(available at Amazon.com)

GOSSIP

       I

Those who gossip to you
About their brothers
Will gossip about you
When with some others.



          II

Three people
Are hurt by
The gossiper's tongue:
The fool who listened,
The one described
And the bird who sung.

SIN

                              
                               
                               In              

                               Gra

                               Tit

                               Ude

                               Is

                               The

                               Fir

                               St

                               Sin

PAINTERS RESTAURANT OASIS Cornwall-on-Hudson, NY

Here, surrounded

By warm noise

Chattering patrons

Gossiping regulars

Jazz from the City

I feel comfortable

As though home.

Even on a cloudy day

They keep the lights low

And my mind

Slows to dim.

Coffee in a sailor’s mug

Arrives at my table

As I sit down alone

With room for six.

Without offering a menu

The owner takes my order.

He calls me warmly by name

And I thank him

The same way.

I return day after day

To read, write, eat

And nourish my soul.

They know me here;

I feel love.

THE FOURTH BLOW

The sixth lesson                                                                  

Watercolor by Pat Morgan

That taught me to survive

Wasn’t any deeper

Than the previous five.

The fifth knock

That opened the door

Wasn’t any louder

Than the previous four.

The fourth blow

That split the tree

Wasn’t any harder

Than the previous three.

The third stone

That twinkled like new

Wasn’t more precious

Than the previous two.

The second effort

That got the job done

Wasn’t any greater

Than the previous one.

This last stanza

That needed to be said

Wasn’t profounder than

Those already read.

ENVY RUINS EVERYTHING

Ocean envies land

Striking it wave after wave

Washing it away

Resorting to tsunami

To soak it miles in.

Land envies mountain

Shaking it to its core

Quaking it till it falls

Loving each avalanche

It can cause.

Mountain envies sky

Blocking the light

Channeling the wind

Creating rain on one side

Desert on the other.

Sky envies ocean

Blowing hard over it

Whipping up whitecaps

Making unwilling waves

Crash against the rocks.

Ocean, Land,

Mountain, Sky

Were perfect

Before there was envy;

Envy ruined everything.