THERE SHOULD BE COBWEBS

There are memories

that bring a smile,

a warm remembrance

of childhood’s joy.

Bacon,

sizzling in a pan,

the aroma filling the room,

mouths watering 

in anticipation.

Your mother in an apron,

fork in hand

moving each strip with care

As you cut a peach,

ripe and succulent,

its slices falling

on steaming oatmeal.

But these are memories
never spoke of now.

A jar of

peanut butter,

bargain shelf special --

A loaf of wheat bread,

Freihoffer’s,

Buy one,

get two free

are all the pantry
offers now.

Eight months 

without a job --

No peaches in

her child’s hands.

Only anguish,

where once

there were dreams.

HANDSOME

I look at his beard.

It is turning white,

making him look

more handsome

and dignified.

I can barely remember

him as a boy --

soft, gentle eyes,

trusting and full of warmth.

Today,

a man near 60,

he has dignity

and stature.

How I love him.

He is my brother.

And I,

a sister,

a bit in awe.

THE INHERITANCE

With it came dreams,

dreams of death

with nondescript images

swirled in sensations

of loss and privation.

It had seem a god send

before its arrival --

Her final act of love

for those she held dear.

But with its presence,

loss surfaced

from depths unrealized

in day’s bright light.

I love you, Anna

More than words can say.

I never realized

how dear we were

to you,

Never held you close --

My loss.

MOTHERHOOD UNDONE

She had played the victim

for so long

It was difficult to drop

the role.

Reaching out, 

making needs known,

came only in tears

of recrimination.

How, how can she
be reached?
How made to see
no blame is needed,

just the words
I need you.

COUNTING CHICKS

I count them as I

sense the day

ahead resound as waves

slap on the shore of dreams.

This will be done,

Then that.

Things put in order

no less sure than

Homer's recitation

of the ships

of Agammemnon

Or the fleet of Odyesseus.

This will be done

and taken care of

Sure as the ripple

of an ocean breeze

brings waves on the sea,

These chicks,

they peck their beaks

through the opaque 

filaments of life

Ready to break open

a world of possibility

with rewards.

ELEGY FOR A BOY LOST

When she looked in his eyes,

she could see her soul.

The world around her

disappeared

and love and caring

filled the void 

between their existence

And the moment

he was lost.

She remembered

blue eyes,

so sparkling

and bright

They seemed to hold

her very essence

entwined

with his.

How does a mother

mourn

the loss of one

so young,

so tender?

When does the healing

start,

the heartache end?

In July 2014 a 15-month=old

boy died in his parents’ car,

forgotten by his father on a

90 degree day in Ridgefield. His

mother shared her grief with

our paper.

RENDEZVOUS WITH CLARITY

The mind is frail,

a leaf

blown dry 

by age’s progress.

Frustration comes

with passing days

of confusion 

and befuddlement.

You once were sharp

as field grass

blown between the fingers

of a mountain lass,

a note carried on the wind.

I remember turning

to you

for answers --

I will be with you,

by your side

through this old age.

To bring a smile,

a moments happiness

to that dear face

And brush away
the shadows of confusion
that cloud your mind.