A Dove Has Flown

for “Bunky”

When did time begin to move so swiftly?
Surely it was only yesterday
when we played, carefree,
along the sandy shore.

Who thinks in terms of centuries?
Yet, we saw the turn
and learned with grace
to write 2000.

How can it be?
Now the harps are playing,
the angels sing.
You’ve gone ahead

to light our way.
We grieve the loss
but celebrate your freedom
with songs of praise.

As some unknown poet said
some century long ago: You hold us close
from afar. You’ve stepped inside of heaven
and left the door ajar.




In My Own Back Yard

is measured by the sea,
rock-nooked flowers
bear witness to resistance,

still the wind
within the shell and listen
 smile soaked tears
 taste of a tender touch

how mountainous
the shore from here
to there, each pebble
shines its testament

each tiny sparrow
rills the rainfreshed air,
a butterfly
is caught up in the song