If Only

This morning, early,
I pulled 30 plastic bags
from the throats
of sea turtles.

Then, I held back
a phosphate spill
from invading
a Florida river.

I’m now circling poachers
who are ready to claim
a large bull elephant’s
life.

By lunch time, I will have
replanted the milkweed
that was plowed under
for a New Jersey parking lot.

The monarchs will be overjoyed.

I’ll rest
in the afternoon sun,
feeling the earth
breath.

By dinner,
I will have collected
all steel jawed traps,
while red fox watch from the bushes.

Then, closing my eyes, in the moonlight,
I will know that all two leggeds
have awakened to the preciousness
they are destroying.



What Survives

She gently touched the gravestone,
warmth on cold granite.
I watched from afar,
thinking of past losses,
and ones to come,
pulled toward
an unavoidable grand goodbye.
The mystery we avoid looking
squarely at,
blinking instead into the light,
til buying
gravestones and such.

Can these cells absorb the truth of their demise?
Can I taste the end while still eating the pie?

Comforting though, watching her
hand on granite,
knowing love survives.


Staying

Watching them leaving,
a great honking,
above the skeleton branches.
Touched their wings with my heart.
I’m staying though,
through cold,
through snow,
through darkness.
Grounded here
in foolishness,
in pride,
in love.
A group of tiny sparrows
flutter in the brown grass
on my left.

Toward a Kinder and Gentler World

It was the fourth of July,
the breakout had been planned for weeks.
Josie 5, Maisy 7, and Mamair 70, were the plotters.
Freedom was on their minds.
What is independence?
Freedom from tryanny.
Ability to live fully.
Something you sorely miss
when it’s taken from you.

Every act of kindness takes one out of lethargy.
Every act has to be an aware act
or it isn’t really kindness,
it’s just habit.

A different market visit,
the three plotters viewing the lobster tank,
looking for the two,
that begged the most to be let free.

Josie, “Let’s free them all.”
Seemed unimaginable.
Maybe someday.

The grandma adds, ” You know
when ever you reach out in kindness,
you never know
how it will turn out.”

We watched the bubbles
moving out in murky,
ocean water.





To Be Loved

For all his grumpiness,

for all his crankiness,

for all his plea to be left alone,

he was so touched to be loved.

 

Sometimes earth has dried

so very much,

delicious water rolls around

not finding entry.

 

Even then,

we know,

water

finds a way.

 

We may not see

the moment of opening,

we may see only

resistance.

 

But in a heartbeat,

in the softening of the mask,

we know,

he was so touched to be loved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Root Food

In the dream,

I offered a parsnip

to the eagle

hovering over me.

Its talons reached out and took it.

Afraid and excited,

wow, something vivid just happened.

A parsnip?

Strange.

Never really dealt with parsnips.

I’m from the Bronx.

We never had parsnips.

What’s with the parsnip?

I associate parsnips with the Pilgrims.

Naw,

its basic survival food though.

That’s it.

I offered something,

a root food, and it was taken.

Could have been a souffle

but no,

a root food.

That’s the only thing at 71,

I want to offer anymore.

Root food to the world.

Push Sahara Into Sea

The Great Creator said,

” Push Sahara into sea”.

” Right”, I said, “Sure”.

I decided instead

to lie down on the warm sand.

It baked my bones

and melted into me.

I nearly fell asleep.

” Wake up, ” I heard,

” I told you what to do”.

I looked around,

from dune to dune.

” This is ridiculous.”

I called out to passing birds

for help.

They flew on by, uninterested.

I pushed some sand around

with my hands,

then started walking to the sea and got lost.

” Push Sahara into sea.” I heard again.

” Oh leave me alone, it’s impossible!”

I started to cry.

” Can’t you see this is beyond me?

I’d need trucks, thousands.

Crazy.

Do you want me to die trying?

Is that it?”

” What are you talking about?” I heard.

” I asked you to

COME PLAY WITH ME.”