winter and the trees have no leaves
Beauty is the stolen moment
of a single green field among
the grey of the trees.
Beauty is the sudden reddish brown
of the grasses
and the clear view
of the fields through the dark trees,
the daring of the hawk as he
somehow avoids
the barren branches and
soars through the woods.
Beauty is the single glimpse
of a deer family
in the
winter
***
Web Published Poets
I hail to you
sentient ones
keepers of the morning dew
masters of the web so
recently spun
hail to you
who dare submit
who dare feel and tell
hail to you
charmers
singers
jokers
lucky ones who
know the morning dew
for the sunrise comes
and the sunset
goes
so wail
cry
rant
try
each day is not an
entitlement
only the gift of
old
and young
and hope
hope for a stricken child
hope for a grandmother
hope for a prisoner
for we are all prisoners
and hope
that says indeed there is
a new law of God’s physics
all that matters cannot be destroyed
***
UNTITLED
I reach inside and I twist
my heart out of my chest and I
hold it in my hands.
It is beating for you
rumba rumba baby baby
rumba rumba
can you hear my heart
I can feel it beating for those children of war
who did nothing
to earn
a look at the blood in the street
who did nothing
to learn
of the sound of gunfire in the night.
rumba rumba baby baby
rumba rumba
for the soldiers who said I’ll go
and went
and found not what they were seeking
only the
gunfire in the street
and the children
***
To Heal
I want to say that
I am sorry
but
it is not enough to be sorry
it is not enough to cry
it is not enough to get even
or even to try to turn the other cheek.
The refugees gather at the border
“Their lives matter too”
It is enough to become quiet
in the silence of the crowd
it is enough to honor with silence
the dead and the living
it is enough to love again
and to feed the hungry ones
in silence
we cannot heal wih revenge
we must heal this wound
in our hearts
we bleed in silence
our tears fall into the rubble
but the fires still burn
***