I wept today, I have to admit I did
and felt my tears moisten my lips,
as they flowed and ebbed;
and I couldn’t turn them off.
I wept today and for days gone by.

I wept this week, like I’ve never done before.
for the memories and thoughts,
and cascading streams from
mountainous reserves.
I wept today at the reality of time.

I wept today at the pictures of  youth,
and thought of  life..and death.
I wondered and wandered my soul,
as my tears turned to rain.
I wept for you and me as well.

I wept this month, and continue to weep
for the emptiness and void
your passing has left.
I grasp for a reason I know won’t appear
I wept today, again and again.

I wept for you and those you loved.
I wept like I’ve never wept before...
I wept and I wept ‘til my tears ran dry.
I wept today and I know for sure
I will weep tomorrow
and ever more.........

Parachutes billowing,
floating
above the abyss
though we all once knew.
Parachutes colliding,
landing
upon the barren land
that man once had.

They came by the millions
     drifting from heaven.
Their reason for being...
      a mystery to all.

Parachutes flaunting,
opening
to reveal themselves  
so that man might learn.
Parachutes lifeless,
wafting
through cloud speckled skies
when man was glad.

They came by the thousands
    dropping from heaven.
Their reason for being
could not be explained.

Parachutes lingering,
meandering
toward their spacklespace
of the damaged sphere...
Parachutes multicolored,
sized and shaped
caught in the crosswinds
and turbulence of man.


They came by the hundreds
crashing from heaven.
Their reason for being
was not understood.

Parachutes traveling,
transporting
the essence of life
for all to perceive.
Parachutes tangled,
snared and collapsed
by pettiness and greed
of those who wanted more.

They came by the dozens,
groping from heaven.
Their reason for being
was a little too late.

Parachutes hanging,
lifeless
not realizing their fate
but expecting the best.
Parachutes sputtering,
idling over the masses..
too blind to see...
too ignorant to know...

They came by the millions
but now there are none.
their reason for being
will never be known-

Two old gents with cameras in hands,
attached to tripods, made five feet.
they stopped along the shore so fine,
and watched pelicans dive on Marco Isle.

Those same old gents with cameras *****,
gazed and snapped a stately white heron.
Posed and strutted where water met sand,
on Marco Island, mid-winter twenty-ten.

Two old men on their destined paths,
no matter where it led, no matter how far.
Adrift in their thoughts and their friendship,
cameras in hand, attached to their tripods.

Two old gents disappeared behind dunes,
never to be seen or heard from again.
But two old ladies arrived, cameras in hand
ready to take their place in the sand.