An Evening

A translation of a poem my father wrote in Low German for his parents, circa 1972.

Do you recall, dear Helen, when we sat in our yard last September
In the darkening evening, with shade of deep green?
How the night violets emitted a fragrant sheen,
It was an interlude above all others to be remembered

The nightingale was singing her soothing evening song,
as we sat hand in hand and simply listened;
Life was laughing around us, and our hearts glistened,
Scenting the blooming flowers in the place where we belong.

Come sweet, let us once again give each other our hands,
And quietly consider what life has brought us to
Now that Autumn has descended like a curtain:

For us, I think of our simple golden wedding bands:
They have endured, as we remain together, this last while too,
And our encircling love, will ever be sure and certain.

Arvo Part

scraggy grey beard
tan suit jacket
no tie
he sits in your sunroom
squinting brightness

his voice barely a whisper
hands quiet in his lap
you strain to hear every word
like pearls on a necklace
each one the same round perfection
but unique

opaque beauty
firm
true
created in struggle
around a grain
of pain

and a scraggy love emerges

Baptism

head bowed kneeling
hand gently laid
words softly spoken
water carefully poured
hands clasped raising up
white towel laid over shoulders
hugs lovingly bestowed
firm faith fiercely shared
----------across the ages

Hurricane (9:30 AM August 27 2011)

swirling vortex of turmoil
approaches
blowing gales of wind and water
lashing shorelines
waves wash over barriers
like a giant hand clearing a table

cities brace for impact
as I watch preparation
for Jack’s funeral

a hurricane of emotions
shakes our foundations
surges through our cynical
defenses

waiting for a giant hand of
comfort and healing
to alight
featherlike
on our battered souls

Storm (a poem for Michael)

tan shaggy-haired sheltie
comes barking to greet you
tail wagging nervous
you’re someone new

pointed nose sniffs clothes
you lower your hand to pet
fingers buried in mass of fur
man and dog well-met

master calls and he obeys
heading out for a break
chasing birds in backyard
hope has no give or take

you kneel to play some more
asking for a perfect paw
rolls over on his back
trusting tummy rub law

new potatoes

round thin-skinned wonders
some cracked open by boiling
sweet summer savour

Chick Corea

walking quickly in bright streets
he’s impatient
curly hair ruffling wind
glasses flashing sun
can’t wait to get there
to show you all his stuff

but along the way he’s taking
unexpected detours
back lanes
quick corners
and he’s pointing out
wonders
graffiti and architecture
children playing in red and white
striped shirts
a perfect reflection of a cloud in a window

but he doesn’t slow down
infectious excitement
and you marvel
catching it