I Slowed for Death

I slowed for Death

But he did not stop for me 

Today on the Expressway

 

More than halfway to my destination 

I came upon the hulk of a car 

On the shoulder in flames   

Its paint blistering  

A black cloud billowing 

As it dispersed overhead

In the snarl of traffic

A sleek black sedan  

Had eased in behind me  

Its headlights flashing

Signaling me to uncertain end 

Death it seemed expected me

To pull over next

Soon as the roadway cleared

I sped away 

Pushing 75 then 80

Hoping to put some room

Between me and that black sedan   

Yet all the while it 

Stayed on my tail

Headlights flashing

And I felt my chest tighten

As I eyed the rearview

I slowed to 60 then 55

Unsure what to do next  

Until suddenly the sedan 

Veered into the passing lane

And the driver threw me

A sidelong glance

Graciously doffing his cap

Before speeding ahead 

Letting me know that surely  

We shall meet again some day

Towards my journey's end 

What's Vladimir Doing Here

What's Vladimir doing here

I asked myself Wednesday

Exactly that question passing

Through Fremont Square

Vladimir and his pointy cap

So jaunty and free

What's up with that

Can you answer me

Everyone has an origin story

So unique we seem to be

But ultimately we're just the same

Despite all our idiosyncrasies

At least that's what 

Vladimir says to me

  

For the Love of LIfe in All its Forms

I stand at the kitchen sink

The dirty dishes piled high

And marvel at my son's banter

With his daughter

Over the changing table

How the tables have turned

Who is the baby now

And who the old man

One generation leads us forward

While the shadow of another

Falls behind

Poem Composed in a Bed of Clover

This spring things are growing

Around me lushly like a thick bed

Of clover so much so that it feels

Like I’m a baby swaddled in a blanket

Held tightly but without the luxury 

Of being able to roll over and yet

The clover keeps growing 

All around my face

On the Ferry

Once again a fair weather crossing

Sitting masked in the bow

Forward looking in spirit

On a first post-pandemic journey

Along the outer banks of good reason

Sunning on the upper deck

With a fair mermaid in the prow

But what lies ahead soon falls behind

Coming or going rarely different in kind

Howsoever different in mind

Spring Candelabra (a love poem to my favorite tree)

On our morning walk

Marissa and I came across

This magnolia tree fully possessed by

The first light from the East

A spring candelabra

Of outlandish beauty

With its shadow dancing 

On the lawn in front of us

Bobbing in a light breeze

And I stood befuddled

Transfixed really having

Stumbled upon it at the

Very moment of its blossoming 

Like a fireworks display

In staggered bursts 

Of green-yellow flame

Opening before my eyes

A shot for the Year Book 

It was truly an epiphany

At least in the droll personal history

Of me and my favorite tree  

   

 

A Light Rain in Early Spring (by Han Yu)

 

From Heaven's byways

A light rain falls

Fine as silk

The grass looks

Bedraggled

On the verge

But not yet here

Peerless is springtime

Surrounded by blessings

The willow triumphs

Shrouded in mist

An Emperor enthroned

In the Forbidden City