Speaking truth to power

Speaking truth to power 

Can be scary, but essential —

 Especially when done on behalf of others, 

Which, for some reason, is easier for me.

 I’ve had my hand slapped, 

Literally and figuratively, more than once 

By bosses who didn’t appreciate my observations, 

But I don’t regret having spoken.

Two clouds

There are two clouds on my horizon; 

Thunderclouds, that threaten all they touch;

 Whose shadows cast reflections far and wide, 

Striking fear into the hearts 

Of all who observe their progress. 

What act of nature will it take 

 To defuse their threat, 

Or must I sit here, powerless, 

Awaiting some inevitable destruction?

Spring sunset

What is so lovely 

As a sunset in spring, 

With the daffodils glowing 

To echo the sky?

Spring colors

Surrounded by the colors of Spring, 

The artist’s brush responds 

With a resounding yes.

Rejuvenation

By the time I realize the azaleas are in bloom, 

Their petals are already starting to fall:

There’s nothing I can do to stop the flow of time.

But I trust and remember 

 That the rhodies will be the next to bloom:

I know that nature will rejuvenate.

But how can I trust 

That all these institutions we so carefully created 

Will survive this ruthless pruning?

Peaceful morning

Back at home in my favorite chair, 

Staring out at the morning light 

 Gracing the garden shed 

Framed by the darkening sky, 

The ancient stove, too heavy to move, 

The reflections of the flags, 

Waving in the breeze, 

And the pine cones suspended 

 From the branches of the eagle’s favorite tree,

 I am at peace, 

Ready to begin a new day.

Change is blowing in the wind

A strong wind is blowing, 

The red light is flashing, 

And the machinery for change 

Has been put in motion. 

The gaps are appearing: 

May the truth be made manifest 

 For all who’ve grown addicted 

To the lies and the fear.