The women in my life define my path
Through difficult and often painful times
Still, as I embrace emotional wrath
Before my wizened eyes. As each one climbs

Out from under cultural oppression
To stand and speak her mind, I beam with pride
Knowing surely that her intuition
Is incisive, clear, and wise. By their side

I walk, straight, tall, and content, certain that
As they travel their lives’ long, winding roads,
Kindness, compassion, and strength to combat
Adversity are there to help them bear the loads

Society drops onto their shoulders.
These fierce people are not rocks, they’re boulders.

There’s someone special walking next to me
Who makes me better every single day.
How fortunate I am to to clearly see
The ways she, as a partner, lights the way

I travel daily, yearly, through the paths
I choose. I wandered here and there through years
Of roadblocks to serenity. She laughs
With me now, although surely there were tears.

No one is immune to hardship, to pain,
To daily ups and downs, but there is hope
In my partner’s wisdom, kindness, and plain
Sense approach to solutions. We now cope

Together, with a boundless joy of life
As a united, bonded man and wife.

Deep in the woods their children barefoot run
Through leaves and sticks with unencumbered joy.
Light pours in through the trees as summer sun
Engages the soul. Six players employ

Magical, mystical tunes swirling through
The forest. Pounding; beating; swinging; and
Sweet, swaying rhythms, a counterpoint to
The fragrant quiet of this peaceful land.

They play just for themselves, not for the crowds
That fill arenas when they’re out on tour,
They play to trees, to families, and the clouds;
They play unbound, not like what’s come before.

The world has never heard them play like this,
Nor will they. It’s not a concert, it’s bliss.

The spring rolls in all purple, pink, and blue,
It starts to peek through even as the chill
In the air can sometimes damage the new
Green shoots, early harbingers that soon fill

My garden, telling me that finally
The too-long lingering winter I hate
Is gone another year. I long to see,
To feel, to relish longer days and late

Warm summer nights with family and friends,
The lazy days on beaches by the sea,
To hope once more that summer never ends.
And endless summer’s where I want to be.

Fall, winter, and spring for some folks are fine,
But not for me. I dream of summertime.

Our treasured earth is life, the sacred ground
Of our existence. It supports the seeds
That feed the world. But digging holes, we’ve found
Destruction in the service of our greed.

Air, what sets our world apart in the grand
Design makes habitable the one home
In the universe. But by our crass hand
This critical resource may soon be done.  

The water sustains life of every kind
On this planet. Without it, clean and clear,
Civilizations die, cultures fail to find
Sustenance the toxic wells. We oft hear

The doubt, denial, and neglect, but those
Who do harm to this place are who we chose.

It numbs responses, makes him feel a dull

Ambivalence to things that ought matter

To a loving family man. The full

Measure of his silent, distant chatter

Speaks of sadness his smiling face belies;

He hides it well, darkness only he sees.

What makes them happy brings to him gray skies,

Sunless days, and moonless, sleepless nights. These

Painful shadows follow him where he goes.

Helpless to escape the lingering doubt

Of his sanity, he deep inside knows

That he must drive persistent demons out.

He’s never sure he can do it alone.

But he surely knows that it must be done.

While the storms of April are almost past,
The storms inside rage on with a vengeance.
My brain can’t wrap itself around these last
Years of deep and painfully lonely dance

About which I never speak. Rejection
Burns a crater-deep, gaping, misshaped hole
That grows ever larger, and drains passion
From the uncharted center of my soul.

I self-examine every chance I get,
I beat myself up–surely I’m to blame
For all the emptiness I feel. And yet
I’m just not ready to speak to the shame

I feel for being unable to fight,
And bring my aching heart into the light.

Looking out into April’s late-night sky,
The stars shine brightly down from cosmic perch
Onto a land that time is passing by,
As inhabitants lean into the lurch

Of past, present, and future. We take for
Granted all we have as gifts from God
To use and cast away. We leave a sore,
Bleeding, oozing mess behind without nod

To generations yet to come. Man’s greed
Is rationale as we foul our air, our
Water, earth, and planet, from endless need
For more, and more, and more. Soon comes the hour,

As we continue to fail to preserve,
Of the cosmic reckoning we deserve.

Amid hustle, bustle, one laughing kid
Works hard and diligent to grow his brain.
In second grade, he’s interrupted mid-
Thought over and over, yet he’ll remain

Focused, maintaining the joy of learning
As he reads, writes, and creates. Little
Knowing smiles cross his wide eyes while earning
Kudos from mentors in a tight, brittle

Learning environment that can stifle
Less flexible minds. Creativity
Abounds amidst most without a trifle,
Where repetition rules, where few can see

Beyond their strictly memorizing rules.
His racing mind is making polished jewels.

A blazing hot day in April, a sign
Of a long and sultry summer to come.
The sizzle on the street, the music fine
As neighbors chat ‘cross stoops, no one alone

In the city when the warm weather returns.
The grills come out, the beer is chilled, the park
Down the block sings with laughter. First sunburns
Appear on shoulders; hear the moms remark

For the thousandth time: “Don’t forget sunscreen!”
As happy, skippy kids come out to play.
The flower boxes burst with pink and green,
And all is right a moment. On a day

When other people rage and scheme and weep,
Here in the city, summer love runs deep.