Floating away…
Sometimes, I wish I could.
Far away, …
Browsing category Poems
Past: The fresh green color of the field takes me back to when I was a child and my father used to buy fresh pistachios. Sitting around a garden table in the backyard, we would remove the skin, crack open the shell and eat the little treasure inside. …
Last night I had a dream but only remember fragments. My mother was speaking to my father: “I want to show you something; it’s my hair. Have you seen how grey it’s gotten?” There was emotion in her voice and a certain sense of urgency. …
There is something comforting,
About living in a city.
People all around, …
There is a tree along a small passageway
Near where we live.
It bears no fruit, …
I can relate to the old window shutter.
It has lived:
Paint wearing off. …
Lines of cars waiting to take the highway toll ticket South of Perpignan, France…
It’s the first tollbooth after the Spanish border. We were driving to Barcelona from Switzerland and glad to be driving in the opposite direction. …
The lone apple tree
Dangling bird house
A solitary bird in flight. …
Dry branches hanging from the overhang
Concrete steps half done in a grassy field
An outdoor café far from cities. …
We were finishing dinner at a local campsite restaurant, when the owner (who is also the cook) walked out the front door leaving us in charge. The place was literally empty, no one else beside us. A good feeling came over me …
It’s my favorite path,
Rain, snow or shine,
Seeking silence and tranquility …
Graffiti on a wall, Without a message or image? Hardly. It’s on the sidewalk, At the entrance of a primary school, In a small, quiet, sleepy village. Children imagining, Playing, Having fun, Perhaps dreaming, Of walking on rainbows, Before school begins again. Yet the colors are circular, Within life’s rectangular boundaries. One small triangle remains
A cold beer tastes good
Even on cool, rainy days.
Staring out the window with a glass in hand, …
