before I was born
no troubles
yet here and there
these beauties
of being here now

no contest at all
sitting here under a willow
watching the water
while all sorts of chores
remain undone…

we work briskly
Into the momentum of the day
a long list of what to do,
once all there was
was to fall in love

cold rain
in another town
the streets empty-
from one house
a gift of wood smoke

meltwater
thunders through the gorge;
the bridge trembles

older and older
the strangers saying hello
to me

the wind in the trees
reminds me
that what once was
so important
just passes by

wondering if this is what
my parents felt,
in their own time
seeing a better past slip
ever further behind

stifling a yawn
in the company
of myself

the farther away it gets
the more magical it becomes,
those times at night
in the back seat,
my parents taking us someplace….