Brush With Death

Skin so taut that it no longer wrinkles.
We gather around, he lies apart.
Meat on bones consumed, to nourish
Brimming soul and aching heart.

He withdraws so apparently,
Inching back in sight of me,
Shaming my sense of trust.
I fumble comprehension
Of an end that’s so unjust.
He didn't get the chance to rust.

I hope that my appreciation
Of this life we're blessed
Returns and sweetens with rest.
But bitterness prevails today,
Rich and blameless, foggy grey,
Each passing day
Relieves my helplessness.

The King Who Crowned Himself

The team struggles daily, yet our greatest pitcher,
Keeps firing peas right past the dish.
Hitters can’t match him when he’s spotting well.
Spectators are quiet, unwilling to meddle.
He paints each edge lightly and tempts the umpire
To banish the frustrated batsman.
Caught in the moment, he pumps his right fist.
A Tiger walks back to the dugout,
And curses the day that King Felix was born.
It’s passion that drives him, not cameras watching,
But love for the game, and for us, and success.
I’ll cheer him until I cheer my last breath.

"August 15"

A spangled highway curves through branches.

Between two hills on a gravel road,


It finds the parking lot.

Afoot on the trail, the hot sun broadens.
We exit the forest into a meadow


So fecund it smells sweet and heavy.
Person-high underbrush droops in the path,
Brushing, scraping our legs.

A bear-sized dot barely moves far above us,
Two thousand feet up on the carpet of green.

Its paws must bat flies from its warm furry face
As we do from our red sweaty noses.

I’m glad that the bear is so far from our passage,

But I wish I could see it more clearly.

We summit the mountain, which, glacially carved

With blocks of profound geometrics,
Resembles a stone god’s early art project.

Chasms of granite fit right into scale.


I leverage my arms and descend,

Touching my feet to the bottom,

Chasm filled with dirt.
Standing inside it is easy,
Hugged by walls snug and shady.

Up here, see freely in every direction.
Valleys to peaks, and the slopes in between.

A stately white range encircling,
Dignified beyond all compare.
No rumors persist in this thin atmosphere,
Finally everything's fair.