Illusions

Pulled by a tiny tugboat, 

The log-filled barge creeps across the water. 

Etched against the romantically stained 

Pink and blue sky like a giant cockroach; 

Menacing, the stuff of dreams and horror movies, 

And yet quite harmless — 

 The opposite of the evil creeping 

Into our society, black- jacketed and masked, 

Abducting friends and neighbors, 

Claiming motives of safety and economy.

Step into your future

The invitation is always there: 

To take whatever steps 

Will get you closer — 

 To the truth, 

To your destiny, 

To the peace, or the sense of oneness, 

Or the love and sense of purpose 

That is your birthright.

Plum foolish

Apparently I lied yesterday: 

The deer DO like my plums.

 I was sitting at my computer 

Drafting up tomorrow’s news 

When I noticed that the plum tree 

 That stands outside my window 

Was shaking: yup, a deer, 

 Reaching for a plum, 

Then climbing down and munching 

Contentedly. I guess they must be ripe…

Eve of destruction

Having devoured the ruffled flowers 

Off the tops of my fennel plants, 

She’s now staring at my neighbor’s yard 

As if anticipating threat, 

Though possibly just wondering 

If their plums are ripe yet 

(Ours aren’t: though they’re turning redder 

And have been falling off the trees, 

They’re still quite sour; 

Judging from the times I catch the deer 

With apples in their mouths, 

Our unripe apples are far sweeter 

Than the cherries and the plums). 

Just another evening in a yard 

Where everything seems to be 

a target for destruction.

Why lighthouses?

My first thought this morning, 

On seeing this lighthouse, 

Was to mourn the days 

When we built things like this 

To protect one another; 

To make the stranger’s journey safer. 

But upon further reflection I wondered

If lighthouses were simply designed 

To protect investments. 

But my inner optimist won, and decided 

They were built out of the perception (Now lost?) 

That what benefits one benefits us all; 

Out of empathy for both 

 The sailor and the merchant and their families; 

The absolute conviction 

That what hurts one leaves all of us

Aching for their loss.

On the lake’s edge

Peace comes in many guises, 

But this is one I rarely see: 

The stillness of a lake, 

The reflection of the lilies 

In the sky-blued water, 

A dead tree casting its final sentence 

Across the page of green… 

And so I stop, and sit, and stare, 

And listen to the bird songs coloring the air, 

And dream.

Assumptions about intelligence

Sometimes, having learned more 

About the intelligence of the octopus, 

I wonder about all the other creatures 

 We are so quick to ignore or slot into categories. 

Is it possible, for example, that a flower,

Like a child, might be curious, and attempt 

To explore a knothole, 

Or reach out to open a door?