Eternal Hope
Winter I thought you dead
Lifeless under frost
My own body coiled
Under blankets frost thin
Heartbreak aches in cold
But still beats sallow, deep
Subsist under curled leaves
In naked forest sermons
But days grow by minutes
Given the slightest coax
Impudent shoots push
Through the softened skin
Miraculous blood flow
Glacier covers break from bed
I rise slow awakened
Eager buds on every twig
From out stretched hands
Two Boys
Two boys in red shirts
Each holding a branch
From a windstorm
Torn from the tree
With deep roots
Taking turns
Whack a stone wall
Primitive rhythm
In the tune
Of earth, wind and sky
In my small house
Windows dull the sound
No longer privy
To the talk of boys
And games they play
Oh my world has changed
Far from the tree
The roots and rhythm
I once knew
Oh how my song has changed
Paradiddles and rolls
Too complex for my hands
10,000 hours
To practice and learn
What I once had known
Family Plot
My cousin pointed
No snow on their graves
Others covered in brittle crust
From last night’s sleet,
Soft powder underneath
As my grandson squatted
By your headstone
I thought the sun graced you
More than others laid to rest
My diminutive history buff
Came to see great grandpa
War vet who lost a leg
His wife, forever by his side
Purple Hearts and monuments
Carry weight in a 9-year-old mind
While my cousin toured and spoke
Of each loved one below the crust
The uncle I never met,
Dead at sixteen, burst appendix
Another uncle, my favorite
And his cantankerous wife
Their gathered moss headstone
Fostered a flurry of sweet sadness
Even though for years
I said they were not there
More life in stories
Told by my cousin
The educator from Sacred Heart
We left for lunch
Warm diner with pancake specials
Three generations speaking,
Filling empty stomachs
As well as the fourth
DNA linked
Below the crust of skin
All the while
Our Sacred Heart orator
Told stories in soft undertones
Light and lively
As the new gathering snow
That swirled and dashed
With each passing car
No need to rush
The roads are still warm
Plenty of time
To get our fill
Before going home
At the Gate
The family waited
As passengers streamed from security
Three children of descending size
Two small girls in pink floral dresses,
A thin, tall boy with sleepy eyes
Each holding a bouquet
A few feet away by the information booth
The rest of the family, women young and old
Holding more flowers in pretty dresses
Not a hair out of place
The men in polished cowboy boots
Bolo ties, shirts starched without a wrinkle
My grandson and I waited for his mama
She was snowed in for two days
In Alabama of all places
Had to drive three hours to catch
One of four flights out of New Orleans
Worst snowstorm since 1888
My grandson was his scruffy self
A mass hair on his head
Like a pile of dirty laundry
Bouncing about in Spiderman crocs
With a small rubber airplane
The elder boy in line
Offered him an airline flight pin
He was older, not needing it
He rejoined his siblings
The family was waiting when we got there
I overheard snippets of Spanish
Some words I had picked up living here
I wondered who they were waiting for
Who they loved and respected so much
My daughter messaged me
She was off her plane
We wedged between the youth and elders
My grandson excited
When she appeared
My grandson leapt to hug her
Both cried
The longest they had been apart
I teared as well
Group hugs cause that
Her hair was disheveled
In comfortable clothes
I thought
I should have bought flowers
We headed for the elevator
Leaving the patient family
Dressed as if they were attending church
In the cathedral of comings and goings
In the holy spirit of la familia
In a country of nonbelievers
for Victor