Life – A Thread You Follow

Just a Glance

Hades never promised me a Eurydice.
Looking backwards, whether succumbing
to doubt, fear, an overwhelming desire,
or simply caught between love and reason,
never cost me the one whose hand I held.

And who hasn't turned around a time or two,
disregarding the angel's explicit command,
to look upon all that we were leaving
for a better land where everyone always
strains their looking forward into the future.

Orpheus lost, arriving from the underworld
with no one holding his hand to keep
him warm at night.  The wife of Lot, nameless, 
lost, a pillar now, a tower warning against
attachment and divine disobedience.  And me?
What dire consequences, when I cling
to a way of life, do I suffer for just a glance?

Loving What We Love

A few 
still 
persist 
in loving what they love
while 
one or two 
turn 
in upon 
themselves
forever fixing sorrow 
in a 
permanent 
place.

Gathering

We gather what 
has already been given.
What we give
will be gathered
in a time beyond time
by those who follow us.
Gather with grace.
And let go to pass it on.

A Dance Begins

A cloud forms in the now not so cloudless sky.
The wind answers, waking up the grasses.
A dance begins.

I stir from early morning sleep
to write these gifts of poems.
Another dance begins.

The stars hiding behind the light of the sun
wait patiently for their chance to be seen.
And another dance begins.

My heart waits for a love
underneath the gathering clouds.
A dance begins.

Ways

There are                             Choose
alternatives                         a path    
that make                            where
possible                               dancing
very                                      for no 
different                              apparent
ways                                     reason
of moving                            makes
about                                   the
lightly                                  most
in the world.                       sense.

The Dance

The finches have returned to feed.
The grays of winter have been cast off.
The bright yellow of the male
is set off by the hushed green of its mate.
Both dance around the bird feeder
as if proclaiming to the other
with voices in chirps and twitters,
"Look what I found!" 
I would be chided for such a song and dance
around the dining room table as the meal 
is placed with loving, serving hands.
The scold, though, would come with a smile,
a smile that has wrapped me in comfort and care
for years as we dance life together for another day.

Spring Storm

There is a long line of colors on the weather app.
Greens, yellows, reds and pinks float across
the screen of my phone while clouds flow over
the land above.

A warning siren in the distance followed by
an answering call further along insists
that people find shelter and safety from the storm.

And while secured in basements and inner rooms,
what shields mortals from the weathered tempests
that dwell within threatening to rip the roofs off
with whispering winds of change?

Sometimes

Sometimes 
you get 
what you get
and 
all the promises 
of tomorrow
will 
not change 
yesterday.

Waiting for It

I overheard a gentle comment
while I waited for the next part
of my life to begin:

"Sometimes it is in the waiting."

My expectation increased as I hoped
for an explanation of "it."  There was none.

What is "it?"
I could only guess.
A better life?
Romance?
A purer delight?

Then my fear took over.
What if I waited for "it" wrong?

Bellyaching

A veer toward whining
A quick bemoan
Hands up in the air
Pulling out hair
Griping with no words
A whimper with no sound
Grousing and grumbling
Questioning

These poems complain a lot