Endangered Species

A Day of Gratitude Whenever I have a bad day     —and who doesn’t?     the next day must become         a day of gratitude. It must be a day     when I notice clouds      drifting white, pink or          sullen smoke against         skies of blue or gray— it must be a day     when I reread messages     from loved ones far away—         echoing sweet         heart murmurs. It must be a day     when I touch a leaf or tree trunk     wonder at its secret life—         welcome its wisdom         to fill my emptin...

          On Living Alone People ask me    If I live alone    no, I say — I have three orchid plants    two crafty geckos    ants, now and then,    and ti leaves peeking     in my window. All are demanding    opinionated    convinced that     watching the news    is bad for everyone. Notice us,    say those plush velvet faces,    where did you hide the ants,    say the geckos    water us, say the stalkers— Let nature in and soon    you are too busy    to track tragedies     happening somewhere    to someone else     over which—sadly    you have no control    unle...

Honey Love If you want to know      the taste of love     dip your spoon      in a honey jar     then lick it clean. How many lifetimes     trips to the meadow     frenzied flights     did it take to produce     this sumptuous nectar? I can only imagine     and learn humility     having never spent     one day of my lazy life     in such passionate industry. Oh, yes, I’ve worked hard     so it seemed at the time     but did I ever love like a honeybee,     giving my whole life     each waking moment… every beat of my wings—     to create sweet nourishment     plea...

Palm Trees Palm trees stand not  unbending against the wind they know better. Wiser than most they bow and sway embracing breezes shyly whispering… I beg them to teach me their murmured secrets too soft for human ears. Alas, my hearing never  was or is the best Still, I’m trying.  I worship at their feet rooted in sumptuous soil wondering, always wondering; is it roots or dance that so enables them to rain ripe coconuts  in their appointed hour?  They have answers,  to questions  we only ask ourselves alone in the dark.