Winter In a Mountain Resort

A town deserted,
Syria in midwinter,
A stark empty street.

On The First Snow

Snow meanders down,
Winter smiles in its late bloom,
Our first white blanket.

A Moment in Time

My soul bursts with love

I will love you for all days

I will wax joyous

(This haiku was written while bicycling. I often find the scenery of Madison County, where I live, Inspiring)

Elizabeth's End

Some of us have been unlucky enough to have known someone who has descended into Alzheimer's. I wrote this haiku in memory of a distant relative who made that journey: 

  

"Elizabeth's End"

Haiku at 85

Where did myself go?

Have I only the past left?

My youth beckons me.

In loving memory of Elizabeth Bickel

The Biophysics of Breathing

Let us render clear,
The vital items
Of our lives,
Not the things of pleasure,
But those things without which
We may find ourselves expired,

Or at least impaired

Beyond
Those greater things that are
The sustenance of life,
There is a list that can be made,
Food,
Water,
Air,
The last is mostly critical for
Oxygen,
What if we were to lose
That critical component,
The oxygen of our life,
Not the O2,
That mixes with the nitrogen
We breathe,
But that very something that
Sustains us,
That very life line
That we each might have,
Some of us,

Are more tightly
Interwoven with it than others,
For some it is

Like unto the umbilical cord,
As critical as that to which they cleaved
Within the womb,
Without it they wither,
What is it?
For some it is a place,
For some a drug,
For some,
A person,
For all,
A vital element,
Defined only by them,
The level of criticality unknown,
Until it is lost
In a moment,
Wherein they are,
Perhaps for the first time,
Truly working without a net,
Or even a sense of direction,

And they begin slow suffocation,

Not of the lungs,

But a different kind of drowning,

That of the soul.

Occupying Wall Street

So they wanna occupy Wall Street, eh?

I do believe that it is already well occupied,

Occupied in making money,

Not in makin' stuff,

That would muss those custom suits,

And chip those polished nails,

You can't see Wall Street's residents,

They're busy behind smoked glass,

Trading the most expensive vaporware

On earth,

Buy it for a thousand,

Sell if for a hundred,

Heads they win,

Tails you lose,

Try retiring on that,

It's working out for them,

They're important people,

Don't hurt their morale,

Mayor Bloomberg is worried

They might get sad,

(Sigh).

Don't turn around,

But while you're occupying,

Your jobs are occupied,

With migrating to...

Another hemisphere,

Enjoy your camp-out folks,

And your three weeks

Of fame.

Jerry Falwell's Last Audience

Jerry Falwell died,

You know,

He entered to eternity,

St Peter wasn't at the gate,

The gate was plain

But well maintained,

He had to open it himself,

He entered in,

And found an escort,

Found a place to stand in line,

Eventually he came to stand,

Alone before a holy shrine,

A disembodied voice said 'Hi,'

'Welcome,

We're a perfect fit for you,

Jerry smiled that smile,

The one he saved,

Saved for preaching on TV,

He told the voice,

I always gave,

All faith,

And honor,

And all glory,

To your only son,

And Jerry smiled

That famous smile,

Again,

Too bad his congregation

Wasn't there to bask in it,

And then the voice said,

Puzzled,

What son?