No Candy This Year (+2)

The eggs had been colored,

and scattered about

 

The baskets were hidden,

the children to shout…

 

“Was he here mom, was he here?”

they yell from upstairs

 

“Come down and find out,”

she says—nary a care

 

Their little feet rush,

taking two steps at once

 

Wide eyes dart all over,

playing their hunch

 

Living and dining rooms

they tear with a fever

 

No corner is safe,

from the incursion of either

 

“I found it, I found it,"

the bigger one said

 

The smaller one saddened,

their heart filled with dread

 

“The Bunny forgot,

there's no candy this year”

 

From across the big room,

the first start of a tear

 

“The Bunny never forgets,”

their mother cried out

 

"You have to look harder,

both inside and out”

 

And as the front door was opened,

the little one chimed...

 

“Mom, he didn’t forget

—it was here all the time”

 

 (To My Grandchildren: Easter 2017)

 

 

 

Where Dreams Elope

 

I don’t remember where I was,

when the Earth became my lover

Surrendering herself to me,

enticing all endeavor

 

Canyon Walls and Glacial Cliffs,

whose depths and heights I wander

Memory folding in upon itself,

my heart immersed in splendor

 

I now find love with every breath,

and every sight that lingers

As joy is wrapped in every smell,

that sets my thoughts to ember

 

To walk as one within the arms

of seasons, wind, and weather

Renewed of hope where dreams elope

—remarried to forever

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2020)

 

 

 

 

Mirage In The Distance

 

“Who’re you really” the Sage asked again,

that look upon his face

 

“It depends on who I’m looking at,”

I said, his eyes now glazed

 

“I’m never just one thing as you’ve heard often

in my songs

 

“Like the weather I am prone to change,

from right—to oft times wrong”

 

“But what of your essence” he asked again,

“the core of who you are”

 

“My essence a myth that plagues your mind,”

dimensionally scarred

 

“If your eyes were a laser with vision to burn,

you still would only see

 

“A mirage in the distance, wrapped in a mystery

—pretending to be me”

 

(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: April, 2020)