Dusk
along the lane
only foundations remained
we traced them with our feet
stumbling occasionally
I stood inside one
he – just outside the one next door
for one moment
music lingered on the warm humid breeze
in September of 1941
there was no carnage
The old runway
evoked pre-dawn mornings
the palpable drone of engines
the smell of aircraft fuel
Ford Island
lay in the protected womb of Pearl Harbor
We drove home sated with gaiety, family, friends and food Beyond the traffic noise lay stifling heat and the silence that tolls the end of summer hundreds of miles rolled by town by city Out the window ‘Korean War Conflict’ hung from the license plate of a passing van I thought of the young couple…
Tall and thin, he leans against a jet, sun bouncing off the carrier deck beyond, a peaceful expanse of South China Sea something quietly tired in his smile In other pics boys far too young flash vibrant smiles as they climb about aircraft – Tanned and shirtless a young tousled-hair plane captain laughs at the…
Second Sunday forecast snow. 915 – a tiny flake? another. more . 930 – only barren trees shrouded in a clouded sky. I’d been so – expectant, if only for a moment –and, had already told Maisie. She remembers ‘first snow’ (so long ago) silently falling through the darkness sensing it, barking till we went…
How far? I ask (is the ocean) whenever we are somewhere the ocean is not – often comes the reply “not far..” (Perhaps a few hour’s or a day’s drive) ‘Not far’ is a distance measured on the scent of a breeze something palpable in the atmosphere in fog rolling across the land ‘Not far’…
Against the antique oak rocker in the alcove leans a needlepoint begun decades ago (18th century American primitive re-created in my hand and style with woolen yarns and carefully selected stitches) Cart roads lead from the ‘big’ house, past out buildings and wild vines heavy with grapes (Norton?) – down at the river, a sailing…
One by one bright colors rise silently into the sky Each evening throughout the summer it is the same: boys and men and their kites drawn to the empty beach A few kites soar and dive recklessly only to crash in the water or lay lifeless on the sand – others seem to strain against…