WHERE IT ALWAYS HAS BEEN
For her, friendship has persisted.
In the praise she feels from the sunrise,
in the serenades she hears
as she cruises on her bicycle
across the brother and sister streets,
in the clusters of grapes she savors
as often as possible – in all this
there is the sound of friendship
passing through her life like quiet cars.
She listens to the lyrics
of flowing water over dishes in the sink,
and it says that friendship
will find us when we’re lost.
Her life wears flowered skirts
because friendship insists
on staying where it is,
FEELING WEALTHY
He collects baseball cards
like they’re shining silver dollars.
He carries them carefully
in his front pockets.
He feels wealthy with his cards –
his Musial, his mint-condition Mays,
his Slaughter, a card
kids would kill to have.
He likes to sit
beneath the successful sweet-gum tree
and talk to his cards:
Say hey, Willie.
Pound one over the pavilion, Stan.
Enos, show me how to hustle home
from first on a single.
These days
he strides down Summit Street
in style.
CONTENTMENT
He’s got what he needs –
veins full of force inside,
and a world of wonders outside.
He gets gifts everyday:
a quiet call from a bird,
the perfect flute of someone’s voice,
so many free breaths of air.
He’s rich with rewards.
Just now a bee in a bright shirt
blew by him,
and a breeze came across his arms.
THE DAY HE WAS BORN IN THE PARK
There was a squirrel
sitting in his best posture.
There were praises being sung
by a plane passing overhead.
A small girl’s laughs
lit up the lives of those
who heard her, and happiness
strolled around in its invisible way.
It was his first moment
as a miracle. It was
the rosy face of the world
staring at him suddenly.
It was the things of this life
cheering for themselves.
THE EFFECT OF TRUTH
The effect of truth
is quietness and assurance forever.
You can see it spreading its goodness
across the river, and down
on the face of the sea.
You can hear its quietness
taking care of the world,
its promise speaking softly.
See it on the undisturbed hills,
or see it sitting next to you
at work, or shimmering
in your soup at noon.
THE HEAD OF A TEENAGER
Inside it there are thoughts
like cars and trucks in traffic –
horns honking, fenders crashing,
lights blazing in the center
of a vast darkness. Sometimes,
especially during sleep,
it snows peacefulness and pleasure inside,
and then the traffic stops
and satisfaction strolls the sidewalks.
But most often there is the furor
of youthful thoughts rushing in circles,
slamming on brakes, or speeding
down highways in the head
toward disaster or paradise.
If you stand next to a teenager,
you might hear clashing, distant noises,
you might take a step back
for safety’s sake.
AS GOOD AS IT CAN BE
His pencils are resting
where they should be.
The green lamp’s light
is as good as it can be,
and the stain of coffee on the paper
is a superb stain.
His hands, flawlessly folded
in his lap, are wrinkled
in a wonderful way.
Alone in his perfect apartment,
he is just right,
a senior citizen with textbook baldness
and the great gift
of growing old.
THANKS AND PRAISE IN EVERY PLACE
One day his future is singing a song
beside a frozen river
beneath the sweater of the stars,
and the next day
he hears lords in castles
calling his name. On Thursday
there might be mystic moonlight
in his future, and on Sunday
there could be kingdoms
he can call his own.
His dreams for himself
are in the midst of the city of Happiness.
He glimpses guarantees in his dreams,
the fullness of sunshine,
and thanks and praise in every place.
SURF UNDER THE STARS
She is a good person.
The sun casts happiness
across miles of fields and villages,
a lamp lights up
a small, sorrowful life
simply by switching on,
and goodness is always stroking her,
like the air does,
like the breeze of a fan does,
like millions of mild feelings do.
She likes to lie still
and listen to the music inside her.
The flash of her goodness
can always be seen,
like surf under the stars.
A FLOOD
One day he was driving to school
when he suddenly started laughing.
He couldn’t have told you
why he was laughing.
The daylight along the fields
wasn’t especially amusing,
nor was the wind
among the limbs of trees.
True, he had been talking to himself –
small sentences
that might become parts of poems –
but the sentences
weren’t even worth smiling about.
Still, there he was,
moving along Main Street
in a car filling up with laughter.
Oddly, it filled so full
that the laughter finally
flowed out the window
and followed a wind over a field
far from his school.
THE MOVEMENT OF WINDOWS
His windows slide up and down
with ease. It gives him satisfaction
to feel the frames
flowing up and down on the tracks.
He raises and lowers them
dozens of times each day,
simply for the pleasure of it.
He doesn’t have to strain hard.
The windows seem to wish to help.
They sigh when he starts to raise them.
They sing in their tracks.
It’s festive when these windows
on Spring Street rise and fall.
Birds passing by pause.
A man with a weight of sorrow
sets it down
to admire the movement of windows.
BROTHER AND SISTERS
There are trillions of members –
stones and bowls and papers on desks.
It’s a secret society
that all things belong to.
The earth sees sister planets
and brother stars spinning together.
All the pencils in drawers
praise the trees they came from,
and all the erasers are satisfied
to slide across pencil marks.
He prays at the shrine of life:
show me my sisters
in the clothes in my closet,
my brothers in bagels and jam.
STANDING BY
He lives in useful surroundings.
The stars carry their convenient lights
across the sky each night,
and a silver day usually dawns
in a constructive way.
Each hour has help for him,
and all the moments
are worth spending time with.
Everything seems handy.
The sky
is all set and standing by.
HOW TO HEAL
He knows that to heal
he has to be able to hold all things
in an effortless way.
The sky holds stars with ease,
the sands of all shores
hold sunbathers benevolently,
and please
holds thank you in its hands.
He has to learn
to let himself relax
when he holds a word in his mind
or a proud pencil in his hand.
He knows what’s wrong
will be right
when he holds
by loosening his grasp,
like the land does
when it lets him skip and spring.