The horse was pale,
paler than the light off the mountain
that reflected back in memories long abandoned
Its mane was long,
longer than the struggle to save what
fortune had vehemently denied me twice
The time was short,
shorter than the flashes of history
that hoofprints trampled in the disappearing snow
The trail was closing,
closing on one last intrepid promise
crying out for life amidst a stampede of death
(Valley Forge Stables: March, 2021)
The Smallest Pond
Hey there, high school teacher,
your talent to rebuff
but when you try imagining
your focus coarse and rough
Your feelings mostly borrowed,
your words ill-gotten gains
your hours spent in false critique
of someone else’s pain
You’re outclassed high-school teacher,
your envy on display
your pedantry a mocking tone
and pretense on parade
(To Wayne Miller: April, 1967)
Unitatis
People tend to respect, respect,
both given and received
The dignity of every life,
in one-on-one reprieves
People tend to share the joy,
while closeting the pain
Humanity as best displayed
—when we are all to gain
(Austin Park: March, 2021)
Beyond The Clouds
Risking it all
in the earthbound sky
Her summit was calling,
the weather defies
An avalanche beckoned,
one Sherpa was lost
A trek through the death zone,
another one gone
The temperature dropping,
the oxygen sparse
My crampons now heavy
and feeling much worse
To retreat or push on,
the danger the same
All hail Sagarmatha
—still calling my name
(Memories Of Nepal: March, 2021)