RONDELET
The sacred/natural in the tree
Grew to be inner mom, then we
Paired offspring came along, first one
Much like her, then unlike son.
In his old age, if wise, he’ll see
All the way back the family tree.
A STORE WINDOW IN FORT BRAGG
Not far from quaint Mendocino,
Fort Bragg is, well, just there:
Modest houses along quiet streets
In transparent sea-washed air.
A building daubed robin’s egg blue
Went much too far in feel.
The calm scene stirred and tilted
From banal to strange to surreal.
The troubling mood persisted
Into the scant downtown
Where wistful touches of class
Made it hard to keep the tears down.
One window had nothing in it
But flies and abandoned space,
With left-over moldings and corners
And a ghostly reflected face.
A revenant intimate ache
Reminded one: “Pay the pain
Of Childhood’s loss. Who says
You can’t go home again?
A MODEST AIM
Pass on parental kindness.
Fight the plagues.
Reject evasive cleverness.
BOUNCE
Loving mother
Loved another.
Not to pout;
Sun is out.
Fight the bully,
Kick the tin,
Time to eat.
Come back in.
One got sick;
Looked, could see
In her eyes
She loved me.
MARCEL
On this side
Of suicide
Without a hint of dawn,
A sneeze might do,
A good boohoo,
He settles for a yawn.
If he could pray
Or see Combray
It might not be so bad.
But there's no choice,
No mother's voice,
No balm in Gilead.
Even so
For all we know
A bird forgave him long ago.
ANNE
Across the way
A saintly bell
Wakes a nymph
in Nazi hell.
The loving thrust
Splits her hair
As light from dark
In morning air.
If life can be,
This much was pure.
The virgin felt
Chimed, I'm sure.