Endangered Species

In the Season of Whales There you are     bursting from cobalt blue     in an explosion of spray     glinting in sun wash. Welcome, mighty one--     what are you thinking     how far have you come     how long will you stay? How amazing to share     this planet with you     two such different swimmers     joined somehow in worshipping the sea     bathing in its beauty     surfacing now and then     to scan the sky Are you, too, wondering     will the world be here tomorrow     ...and where do we go     when we are no longer here?  I suspect you know the answers       better than any of us       ...and wonder at our wondering.

Looking For You I look for you    in slap of whale's tail    on blue satin sea    in heart of ginger    cupping crimson secrets. I look for you    in slash of moonbeams    parting purple skies    in rash of rainbows    draping mountains    wet with cloud. I look for you    in a daughter's laughter    a grandchild's sparkling eyes You are everywhere    and nowhere    just beyond    my line of sight. Stay with me    be with me    my breath    my heartbeat. You are all I know    of miracles.

My Horse is the stuff dreams are made of his strength equals ten or more of me yet he comes prancing proud and princely when I say come goes when I say go and arches his great neck in gentle service. The more he submits the more I love him yet I love him most when he runs wind-wild fabulous and free chasing horse dreams. His glorious gallop trembles the earth races my heart wrenches me apart-- he is proof on the hoof of the one who made us all.

Welcome to Endangered Species, a blog dedicated to poetry, which I've been writing for too many years to mention . To me, poetry is the perfect language for commentary on life's special moments, and this is my new file cabinet. Instead of stuffing poems away unseen, I'll dare to share some of my humble efforts here.  Hope you enjoy. On Reading and Writing Poetry I read another’s poetry       that clutches the heart       shimmers with truth-telling wondering what thing of beauty       will be left behind            when I have left Not so much I fear       as what I’ve loved       leaping from the pages of       clear-eyed dreamers: Mary Oliver  WS Merwin Robert Frost  Walt Whitman… I  grope an...