POEMS FOR PEACE

So Politely and Nimbly             

They say you cradle creation,

but I think you cannot stand

to hold in hand

such senseless suffering

as we deliver daily

        to the downtrodden,

as we bring to bear

        on innocents of field and forest—

like those luckless lambs

                (of God)

we so politely and nimbly

pierce with petite points

        (after a brief blessing),

                chattering as we chew.

                Expectation                                                                                                                    

Snuffling snout,

        wrinkly wattle,

bended ear over amber eye—

                                        the wee one smiles.

Peace on Earth

        and mercy mild

  only if we love

                like that baby-child.

Third Thursday

Sinews of last summer’s sunflowers

        stood silent,

                contorted,

                        and colorless,

as we walked the golden-gone grass,

                sharing thoughts.

Across the creek,

        we noticed our neighbors—

                also walking,

        though they went along

                under a sheen of shiny black feathers,

                quietly clucking. 

November turned away

        as we traipsed

                over stubbled slopes

                on long legs

                with knobbed knees,

                talking the time

                        as we traveled.

Being There

The neighbors thought their children

        should witness birth,

                but Missy picked our house

                    for birthing,

                         nursing,

                                weaning,

                                aging.

Across what seemed abundant years,

        I someway felt Missy

                as forever,

                until the day I found myself

        whispering into wispy fur,

                watching mottled eyes mist

                and glaze to gone.

                        I wonder,

                why such ballyhoo

                        over birth

                and yet so little interest

                        in the commitment of caring

                                that lasts a lifetime,

                        which includes being there

                                to speak softly

                                        as spirits grapple

                                                with going?

Sharing Space

I watched you scoot a scurrying spider

        onto a scrap of paper,

into your protective palm,

        then across the hallway

                to rehome her

        under the protective cover

                of our colorful kitchen curtains.

You sheltered that bundle of being

        as we might once have tended

                beady-eyed Bramble Cay melomys,

                grazing quaggas,

                trusting dodos,

                gentle thylacines,

                sleek Baiji dolphins,

                gregarious passenger pigeons,

                solitary black rhinos,

                prehistoric Yangtze sturgeons,

                eloquent dusky sparrows,

                        all of whom we now find to be

                                                                                                                                                missing.