LETTERS FROM HOME

We all get on in our years, most things
I don’t miss. Sometimes we even forget
when it all happened, but I’ve watched others
go down their road. And later
we all walk together to the House of God
(there is always a chance to lend a hand,
to become a little smaller).
They still often pass by,
without saying, “I’m here.”

(September 19, 2007)

DOWN BELOW ME

From this hill you can see
the city lights on the other side of the bay.
If only it was just water
separating us. But maybe the silent headlights
out on the interstate, on their way
to some destination, keep us linked.
And the moon, shining down on everything.

The light doesn’t seem to say,
“Yes, this way. Come, follow me.”
But there is silence in some places, saying
where not to go, even the still trees
outside my window listen to it.
And my feet won’t wear much memory
into this floor.

(September 17, 2007)