Touch

Where time
Expands space,
We touched hands,
Joined ways
And to that 
Touch entrusted
All our days.

With Love and Admiration to All Mothers

(1915-2001)

                                                                  

When her hearing went,
She often said,"I can hear you
But  can't tell what you're saying."
At her kitchen table
We watched a storm pound
Over the old  olive orchard.
Sunlight fled the field,
Crossed the creek and
Dark filled the window,

Then lit blinding blue

With thunder to the bone.
When the room unrattled
She laughed, "I heard that.
I just couldn't tell what it said."
I wish again  her hearing
had been better because
I'd love to know.

Timetable

Rodin, "The fallen Caryatid"

Caryatid or 
Atlantid under
Entablature, our
World, a moment.
A moment has no 
Thought in it, shorter
Than neural synapse,
Irreducible and yet seeks--
Fallen or not --an astragal
Of light and life composing
Souls in history, our inquiry:
What are we?
What can we be?  

Time and Cheshire Cats

Time is fluid,
Seeking its container,
Itself, assuming
All shapes --space,
Velocity, forever
And, of course, 
Imagination and us.

F=MxA* Revisited

*
Wind rises.
Up puffs 
Fluff from
Dandelions.
Dispersal
Never stops,
Nor do thoughts
Grow only
To their tops.

Synodic Prograde

Our station, sunrise
To sunrise, in relation
To our star: right now
We are in eastward motion--
All our land and ocean.
Right now we are
Fusing a billion tons
Of hydrogen into
Helium every other
Second --our mother,
The sun,  mysterium
Tremendum, what we are,
Our star and what
We may become.

Event Horizon

Over leaves of 
Heaven, this 
Galaxy rises,
Opens her arms
And draws our
Moon, Earth,
This light and
Spark of birth,
Around a star--
This ark, on
Which we are.
We Are.