Cucumbers and Onions

Sliced in vinegar
with a tablespoon of sugar;
fare on the farm
when summer sun was shining
on flower bed and garden.

The chores
more than a minor diversion
from swimming in the millpond,
walking the dusty lane
from  mailbox to mudroom.

Making toeprint maps
to quick escapes.  Waiting
for tomatoes to ripen
just in time for the 4th of July
when even Mother Nature
was in the mood for celebration.


The Possibility

A flute music evening
floating on a silver note,
Moonbeams tangled in reflection,
snippets of old songs adrift
interwoven with the gauze of stars.

It’s easy to believe in peace
when trees are swaying
almost imperceptibly
and the breeze is warm.
No sounds of thunder bruise the air.

Experience insists this is a lull
and not a way of life.
A distant owl hoots
as if to say
this could be a dress rehearsal


I want her first white shoes
to fit again,
Turn back time
to those days when life
was one big lollipop poem.
Bring back the goldfish
from that final flush,
Put the training wheels back
on her bike,
Take the clock in hand,
slow it down, slow it down.

The Magnificent Mulberry

No longer a bush, but a tree,
it shades the patio, perfumes
the air with its lush crop
of plump berries, and wild roses
that twine the trunk
and tangle through the limbs
as if they’ve bloomed from its roots.

In constant competition
with waxwings that come for dinner
and stay ‘til the crop is done,
there is still ample supply
of berries bursting to be cobblers,
On a mission to make their wishes
come true, she complies in the kitchen.

Baking and boiling,
stocking the freezer with treats,
the pantry with jars of jam,
When winter claims the calendar with chill
the bounty of the magnificent mulberry
will serve to remind
of these days of windsong and sun.

A Bit of Vortex Science ….. or ….. Drowning in a Wishing Well


In stirred liquids 
   – coffee, cocktails, undertow,
                     tears –
vortices form 
    – even in smoke rings –

External forces
create a turbulent flow
   in the absence of
(external forces)
viscous friction is the mother
of what science calls irrational
     Once formed
they tend to stretch and bend,
    in complex ways.
In an evolving vortex
the pathway spirals.

As a rule of thumb   
with  vortices,  like life
              or a cocktail party,
apparently parallel
and circulating in the same direction
will attract
          and eventually merge,
changing forever
the properties of each.
It’s like drowning
             in a wishing well.                           



Watching you go…

A jet plane broke the sky
with its sonic boom,
then zipped it back again
with a great white contrail
tugging memories of beach days
when banners hovered over the ocean

…Coppertone ads and Phillips Crab House,
Bunting’s Deep Sea Fishing,
‘Come hithers’ fluttered as those planes,
as common as gulls, darted back and forth
like dragon flies with rumbling stomachs
and the sun boiled down,
made bearable by a benevolent breeze
and the salty spume from a wave rolling in to the shore
where you sat with your morning coffee
far removed from the gathering crowds
and this day of jet planes
that travel beyond my horizon.

Night Rolls in like the Tide

Night rolls in like the tide,
mist laden and certain
it reigns over the land.
Muted moonbeams make surf
on fields freshly greened.

A distant whistle caught in the fog
swirls like old memories
of mornings spent in the rain.
Saturated, the lawn grew wild
with tall grass

but that’s the train whistle talking.
The crickets are singing;
I pull my sweater tighter around me
resisting a yearning to fly.
Night rolls in like the tide.