life: a definition

smiling 10 month old
striped shirt crawling in greening
grass in early March

reaching

I like how old cathedral spires
reach up to the sky
on blue sunny days

built centuries ago
they awe our modern minds
as we crane to their pointing tips
magneting our eyes to the
invisible mystery of the creator

I take pictures with camera
pixilated prayers
digitized praise

and stretch my thoughts as high as possible
into the loving blue brightness

march thoughts

falling snow piles up in my mind
on synaptic branches and twigs
on the driveways of thought
on roofs of imagination
and the windshields of clear vision

and life comes to a frosty standstill
disastrous dreams taking over

until the time comes for spring sun
to melt away the accumulated layers
and let life
and warmth
and purpose
and new thought
be

Anton Bruckner

he shows up early
snow white short cropped hair
matching the new snow on your driveway

black bowtie completes his formal look
and you feel underdressed as you invite him in

for an older man he seems restless
always shifting position
never truly comfortable
until he sees the postcard from BC on your piano

he gets up to examine it
snow tipped mountains and lush green valleys
he is mesmerized and says nothing for a while

then he tells you about the changes in life
mountains and valleys
and how he always looked for the harmonic
interconnectedness of everything
invisible strands weaving and tying through all experience

and you look at his bowtie and smile

1916

we are always brought back there
in books-------movies-------- plays
to the middle of a bloody senseless war
soldiers drowning in the muddy trenches of France

it’s been almost 100 years since then
but wars rage on senselessly
cold wars
civil strife
endless argument with no listening

stuck in that one year
and we can’t escape

the world in a prison camp of un-peace
with no way out
razor wire and power hungry guards
keeping everyone in
locked in time and place

is there any hope to get us to the end of 1918?