In mourning

The Pieta perfectly captures, 

Not just how any mother mourns the loss of a child, 

But how any human feels when watching 

Something pure and precious 

Be thoughtlessly destroyed. 

Helplessness in the face of things unfair 

Is always devastating.

The gift of space

There’s something about having —

 Or even just seeing — the space 

To dream, and to imagine a better, kinder world; 

To feel yourself a part of nature; 

To understand the underlying 

 Connectedness of things…

Fake vs. real

Though it looks like a painting,

 It’s a photograph, though I never figured out — 

Because it sat in a bowl of water — 

If the flower was real or artificial. 

And that’s how things seem to be, these days: 

We know, less and less, 

What is true and what is false; 

What’s human-generated 

And what’s AI…

How can we protect?

We’ve learned to erect scaffolding 

Around the buildings we need to protect and repair, 

But what scaffoldings have we put in place 

To protect and repair the principles, 

The morality and integrity 

Once established for our society?

Ageless beauty

How is an old barn like Cleopatra?

 “Age cannot wither her, 

Nor custom stale her infinite variety.” 

That which we love 

Seems ever beautiful before our eyes. 

If only we could learn to love 

Each moment in our lives…

Just curious

What happens in an old New England Inn, 

When someone decides to mount candles 

On the wall above a fireplace. 

I found them in the summer, and wondered, 

Am I the only one who noticed that they melted? 

Or is it that they’ve been left here as a joke?

Moments to remember

What is it we’ll remember, 

When our days draw to a close? 

Will it be acquisitions and accomplishments,

 Or precious moments, and special people? 

What choices might we make this day 

To spend our time and energies more wisely?