Fireflies

In the muggy air

Fireflies

Wander the lawn

As darkness creeps across the grass

Steals through the trees

Envelopes the house

Lightning silently illuminates a distant cloud

Heat lightning

We used to say

Those childhood evenings

When we meandered

With the fireflies

Waiting for their lambent calls

One to another

And with a jar

One by one we caught them

Then wandered silently

Back across the grass

To the house

Carrying our luminaries

As if they could light our way home

Hobbes

Hobbes again
(who, when he passed at 18 years old, had lived 9 lives twice)

It’s a year since I laid
His worn out body
Wrapped in an old towel
Deep in a sandy hole
In the terraces under the maple
And over the months
The tears have retreated
Behind my eyes
Then tonight
In a bookstore
A small book titled
“I still miss you.”
And tears for that old cat threatened again
I kept thumbing the pages
Until I found this
“Thousands of years ago, people worshipped cats as gods
And they have never forgotten.”
I laughed
Easy again
Tears in retreat
From an assault of giggles

Young Love

Young love

A tired gray day
Not quite spring
A couple strolls the damp sidewalk
Fingers entwined
She’s wearing a sweater
A patchwork of frantic colors
And with a sweep of fingers
Tucks hair behind her ears
He’s in tattered jeans and a black jacket
And does not yet know
So young
How fortunate he is

Office Poem

Office Poem

At the end of the day
Feet up, chardonnay at my right hand
Supper done, dishes washed
My mind turns around events
Looking for meaning
From the hours in the office
Phone calls by the dozen
Emails uncounted
Reports shuffled from left to right
A meeting around a conference table
A dozen faces, voices, opinions
Questions, answers, ideas
For an hour I try to steer everyone
Like a captain raising and lowering sails
Turning the rudder
Directing the crew
Till we arrive in port, or consensus
Then lunch is something
Coffee insures that I will wrap up what’s due
Today
It all has meaning, I conclude
For it all leads somewhere
From the first cup of coffee
And the eight mile commute
Greetings as I make my way to my cubie
To the welcome relief of shutting down the lap top
And exiting to the parking lot
It all has meaning I conclude
Else the chardonnay is no reward