Category: sonnets

Coming Upon a Clear-cut in the Woods 

Published on by geriatric pilgrim10 Comments

~

Two years ago, seeing the slash piles, stumps, 

wood chips, witch grass, and some scrawny hemlocks,

as if Death had been through here with his scythe,

I remembered how it feels to have your 

landscape destroyed: saw once again my child’s

remaining wisps of hair, her spindly legs, 

felt again the shock, denial, anger, 

my familiar depression descending.

~ 

The other day, I wandered through the same

 clear-cut and sensed my shock replaced by awe.

Bracken broke through slash, starflowers hugged stumps,

Pink lady slippers danced on decayed leaves,

huckleberry, aspen, maple promised

me that even death is deciduous.

~ ~

Walking the College Campus at 6:30 A.M. on the 80th Anniversary of of the Bombing of Hiroshima

Published on by geriatric pilgrim4 Comments

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Police sirens fade as I pass through the

memorial gate to an empty quad,

where morning sun reflects off the windows

of old brick buildings, deserted now of

the footsteps and voices, the ambitions,

anxieties, astonishment, fatigue,

confusion, gratitude, egotism,

disappointments, hangovers, and regret

usually throbbing throughout the halls.

Even in the quiet of the morning,

a deeper silence seems to emanate

from these buildings, a collective wisdom—

coalesced and alive—which assures me:

when all is said and done, all shall be well.

The Chapel at Bowdoin College: Painting by Tim Banks

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Geriatric Passion

Published on by geriatric pilgrim4 Comments

“My seventies were interesting and fairly serene, but my eighties are passionate.”

                                                                                                            —Florida Scott Maxwell

◊

Yes, but not like some geriatric stud

who’s still able each night to rock and roll;

Instead, imagine some gnarled tree in bud,

A blazing fire reduced to one red coal.

◊

Three barred owls in a tree, a rainbow,

My sleeping wife, a grandchild’s happy voice,

A doo-op tune, dark chocolate, will now

Bring forth ejaculations of clear joy.

◊

But then I have these night sweats full of fear.

Each day brings new regret for my old wrongs.

I rage for reasons that remain unclear

and weep at maudlin films and country songs.

◊

The plot gets more intense the more I age

As life’s last chapter moves towards life’s last page.

´◊

Scotty

Published on by geriatric pilgrim3 Comments
Thnx to Scotty’s daughter, Jeanie, for the photo

~

Served as Tail Twister of the Lions Club.

He liked his scotch and Camel cigarettes.

Cheered our team at high school basketball games.

Oh, and by the way, he was my pastor,

who, when he ascended to the pulpit,

his black cassock haloed by white candles,

showed me that even short men with bald spots

can be—if only for an hour—holy.

~

Sitting above me in his purple chair

he would sometimes just slightly turn his head,

look down at my family sitting in

the right front pew and give us all a wink.

God, I learned from Scotty, looks after us

with a neighborly twinkle in his eye.

~

Sonnet for the new Year

Published on by geriatric pilgrim4 Comments

The hemlocks in the hollow all have toes

That curve and claw down into rocky ground

To keep them anchored when the north wind blows,

And waters rise as heavy rains come down.

But overhead, these trees sway in the gale,

Dancing a jig to nature’s stormy song,

As if in celebration while winds wail,

Of their sure faith no tumult can last long.

Great lesson, that, especially this year

When God knows what strange winds will blow ‘round me:

Grasp on to love, trees say, instead of fear;

But sway, be supple, let adversity

First rev and race and then run out of gas.

Keep faith, my soul, that this as well shall pass.

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