I walk the dog
I read
I watch the wind
Blow the branches
Of the trees
Under a gray sky
That threatens rain
The torrential rain
Here last night
Gone today
But for the threat
Of more
The day begins
Time passes
I watch
I wait
For rain
To cleanse the air
To shift the shadows
Of clouds
Darkened with water
Waiting
To empty their burden
Darkness pervades
Plans change
Empty hours
Of waiting
Umbrellas furled
Leaves drip
From the canopy
Of trees
Remnants of rain
Past
Droplets of water
No longer suspended
Like time
Bent
To conform
To the new
Reality
Holding the moment
With mist
That turns
To rain

I keep on dreaming
There’s some place to live
A romanticized vision
A romanticized walk

Maybe Alaska
Maybe New England
Maybe a seaport
Maybe New York

Expatriate Paris
Tuscany’s villas
Provence at midnight
Perhaps County Cork

Too many novels
Too many movies
Too many stories
Too many dreams

Too many heroes
Too many failures
Too many sidewalks
Too many screams

No place is perfect
No place dramatic
No place to hide out
No place it seems

No more contentment
No more excitement
No more bravado
No more extreme

Only a longing
Only a passion
Only a nightmare
Only a scheme

Finding forever
Finding the moment
Finding contentment
Finding the dream

We never got to celebrate Christmas
One last time
At least she saw the tree and decorations
One last time
Where was her Christmas miracle?

The Christmas in July movies suddenly made me think of my wife’s and my last Christmas – she went into the hospital on December 3rd and died on January 18th – fortunately we had decorated during Thanksgiving week-end.

A boat in a tree,
A silly place to be.
Why would there be
A boat in a tree?

There came a great wind,
That wouldn’t rescind.
That couldn’t be pinned
Before it had sinned.

The ocean did roar,
Like rarely before.
And finally did score
By coming ashore.

The wind picked up things,
Like butterfly wings.
And powerful as kings
Or a lion who sings.

Then up it did go,
Just like a show.
The boat travelled slow
Before it did know.

Over the sand,
And over the land.
To find a tree stand
Just like it was planned.

Out of the water,
Not what it ought-a.
Something it sort-a
Never have thought-a.

A boat in a tree,
A silly place to be.
But I happened to see
A boat in a tree.

This is based on a true incident of a cabin cruiser, about 25 feet long, up about 15 feet in a tree after Hurricane Sandy.

There once was a man
Who thought he’s a comic.
He didn’t need logic
‘Cause still he dreamed on.

He’d open for this one
And open at that.
On sidewalks, in nightclubs
If they’d pass the hat.

He followed his plan
And eventu’lly made it
On cruise ships and Vegas
He moved right along.

Through ups and through downs
And fights with his agents
He fought and he battled
And weathered the storm.

And now he’s retired
From stand-up and show-rooms
And calmly announces
As comics move on.

Clouds
drifting across the sky
in imaginary forms

Clouds
making imaginary images
that only the mind
can put together

Clouds
of varying shades
and shapes

Clouds
metamorphosing

Clouds
morphing
into the unknown

Clouds
metamorphosed

Clouds
floating
like the Goodyear blimp
off on the horizon

Clouds
lost
shapeless
meeting
and reforming

Clouds
like foam on the ocean
endless and everlasting
but empty in their
subtlety

Clouds
like cotton candy
pink then white
shifting shades
of gray

Clouds
filled with rain
or as
ephemeral
as infinity
ethereal
everlasting

But, for us,
memories aren’t enough
nor is the present –
we’re looking for the future
and what we want to do.
And the making of new memories.