on the subject of magic

While we're on the subject of magic
did you see the buds on the blueberry bushes
this morning with that particular angle
of the rising sun?
White petals smaller than fingernails
wrapped tight but ready with possibility.

Or - there was the way the shadows played
on the leaf strewn path
through the still bare branches
drawing lines of fate, fleeting.

There was also the brilliant eye of moon
rising over the roof
seeing into our hearts
and knowing.

Periphery

We’re there on the periphery watching from the outside. We keep learning the center is somewhere else, far away. First it was the surprise that mother existed outside of our needs, then the startling fact that the earth revolves around the sun. Now we peek through satellite images at the party we weren’t invited to from the fringes of the galaxy. We listen to radio waves that were broadcast a billion years ago eager to know if the cool kids looked our way, and maybe noticed us.

Blue Hour

There is a magic photographers know

called the Blue Hour - 

it exists after the casual sunset hunters 

have returned their phones to their pockets

after the last burn of gold has dissolved

over the trees and rooftops.

The Blue Hour begins

when you realize you've been reading in the dark

for twenty minutes and you finally flip on a light

and wonder about the nature of time.

There is a secret window of minutes

when true night has not settled in -

where, if you let your camera drink in

the moment for the count of ten, or twenty -

the sky above the glow in your window,

above the shining street lamps,

above the taxi break lights

and the neon signs -

the sky will reveal a secret - 

that it hides a queen's blue,

but you have to wait for it.

and it does not last.

On the Subject of Sidewalks and Portugal

The Ocean brings the ice in on tides

leaving shelves along the shore

like someone has demolished a sidewalk 

and left for lunch.

It's as though She changed Her mind

about letting us walk to Portugal,

as if that had ever really been Her intent.

A few more months of cold

while we all long to be in Portugal

walking on sidewalks along the beach -

sidewalks that have not been upturned

and piled on each other

like a forgotten construction site

in New Jersey.

Hearth

I like the mismatched plates and bowls
piled together like findings from thirteen different garage sales,
most of them chipped
except for the plastic one in the middle.

Also the random assortment of glasses on the shelf above
as if there is a deliberate attempt to have
just the right size for every occasion.

This, after all is how life is,
and a sign of a good use of the limited time.
If everything is clean and dry and put away,
what else is there really to ask for?

diamonds

I've heard everything is about politics,
and sometimes it almost seems as if everything is.
But this morning there was snow in the bald branches
where the trees had reached up and caught
the falling flakes.
And as I stood alone in my kitchen,
steam rising from my coffee
I watched as the sun lit the woods
and it was as if the air was full of diamonds.

learning to cook

When I was a young man,
I cooked everything on Hi,
the knob turned all the way to the right
and the coils a furious red.

I left a scorched trail to the trashcan;
the denizens of the cabinet and refrigerator alike
quaked at my approach.

There was no time for caramelizing,
no time for saute.

As time runs down, I have discovered
by turning the dial to Low
I can slow the passing of the hours
maybe make what is left stretch
into years.

The Star Bridge Awaits

Take my hand, the star bridge awaits -
be brave -
we're going to descend from the heavens
we were born to,
down where the mortals scrap and grind.

Take my hand, the star bridge awaits -
don't be afraid, I will find you there
when fate rings its chime,
before Brunnhilde takes the stage.

Take my hand, the star bridge awaits -
remember my hand,
remember what it feels like,
fingers closing tightly around yours

Take my hand, the star bridge awaits -
you must not forget me,
you must recognize me in the crowd,
don't abandon me
when we are down
where the mortals scrap and grind.