I know a young lady named Heather,
who is really quite all together.
She rides a horse,
an Arab of course,
cause she knows that there is none better.

Can words be found
or assembled into poetic lines
to capture such beauty?
This majestic night-
overhead a starlit sky-
like scintillating black ice-
below- white powder-

I show you a mystery-
they are three yet one-
three has great value
beauty and clarity-
one is amorphous-
worthless and ugly-
two is flaky yet smooth as velvet
and cabbages and kings

Seven years old-
I learned about her Easter Sunday Night-
on the evening news.
It was to have been a very special Easter for her-
not that all Easters aren’t special-
to most little girls.

I know there are some who can not understand,
the bond that exists between a dog and a man.
A bond that when severed for what ever reason,
can cause so much pain and long time grieving.

Your zest for life was bountiful, effervescent
as warm champagne, you arrived on the scene
like a tornado, and that is how you happened
to come by your name.

Can there ever be another Buck
a friend so loyal, good and true-
who loved all people, cats and kids

I awoke this morning to a landscape in black
and white, a stark mixture of shadow and light.
A visual cacophony, yet somehow harmonious-
a paradox.

Feathery frost festoons the trees, now

Though many years have passed, since I held you last-
you’re still in my heart and on my mind.
and when I think of you, as I often do-
then I wonder do you ever think of me.

I watched intently
as a large bellicose garden spider
repaired its broken web.

I don’t know what destroyed it,
something too large to trap became
ensnared I supposed.

What is the true nature of mankind you ask?
It is basically quite good.

Show me an example you can find,
or a case history if you would-

Your room remains unchanged-
just as it was when you went away-
Care Bears and books still arranged,
your dolls all lined up on display.

On the table by the window nigh-

I thought it just an old purse,
hand-tooled- child sized-
with braided leather strap and aged patina-
purchased in an antique shop
to hang on a wall or place on a shelf.

Markers worn by passing time,
Stand as sentinels in a garden of stones.
The names of those who are no more,
Once starkly chiseled,
Now vanishing as though carved in butter

Immersed in absolute darkness; a fuzzy warm darkness.
Suspended in aqueous space, turning, testing its confines-
in control. Muffled sounds, comforting sounds- rhythmic