Midpoints

We mark significant beginnings and ends when we are aware of them. But we frequently aren’t aware, except in retrospect.

Once we are aware that a first time has occurred and a last time is coming, it becomes about what we do with all the times in between. Otherwise we miss the moments themselves, which is all life is comprised of.

My wife and I have been married going on 26 years, and we are currently are on a vacation together in Nashville, Tennessee. A little mental math tells me that we are almost certainly closer to our last such trip together than we are to our first one.

Almost every good and beautiful thing I have in my life traces back to her, and I hope a day never goes by that she doesn’t know that I cherish her and all the moments we get together. Long love is not about putting on a show, it is about showing up.

And she always shows up for me.

Too Many

Too many days go by untasted, 
Too many chances bypassed, wasted —-
Too much love goes mute, unspoken,
Hearts without hearing languish broken —

All too often, our choice is thoughtless,
Heedless of all that life has taught us —-
Too many headlines stark and sprawled
For that one friend we never

Called

more different

you were a habit, 

but less like binging than
like breathing --

i saw you daily as
a part-filmed spirit

reflections on a lake
i'd never been to,
let alone

been in

but after years made
out of frayed yarn

there came an apple-day when

there, from a tree in
a lost backyard

we climbed a stepladder
our heads among the fresh leaves

and you

you could not have been

more different

There’s Always Someone Better

There’s always someone better 
Who’ll make you feel today
The way that you deserve to feel.
And who says, anyway,

What’s right or wrong within the heart?
You need, you want, you feel,
While promises were idle things
Unthinking and

Unreal

When I Call…

WHEN I call you, I hope you know 
That every longed-for Spring
And every treasured Autumn is
In every kind of thing

Between us said or else unsaid --
For this I know, and true:
When I call you, it is because
There's always

Only

You

Maybe A Middle Way

Not all of us can do a flip 
Not all of us can juggle
There need not be a fight, although
There always is a struggle

For if we'd see in different ways
We must get off the bus
That shows us only the same views
That reinforce our "us"

The high sun burns us all the same,
The winter cold all stings --
The common ground's outside our walls
And made of
Common

Things


A Fingerpainted Moment

She asked me to come see her. 
We walked beside the bay,
An omnipresent sky above
A fingerpainted day --

She asked me not to leave her.
I said I had to go,
For the sun goes down on everything
We'll ever feel

Or know