Hours upon Ours

IMG_5268

Day upon days
melt into years
lessons from living
now passed
What would we give
to know how today
would become
from the echoes
of love

Now is the moment
lighting the rest
of our lives
Hours are dreams
to color our days
with memories made
in reflections
of earthly
delight

Image: “Fortune Cookie” by gfs

Echoes in the heart

For all the years
we have walked
the earth
in times and trials
asking questions
never answered
still wonder
at the birth

Of what the heart
has given up
in learning
of the truth
that love remains
a quiet place
where heart songs
will refrain

Under a spell
of words without
a feeling handed down
to such a place
where dreams return
a place once lost
is found
and there we love
forever more
echoes without
a sound

Photo – “Reflections” near Colorado Springs, CO by gfs

Reflections on water

IMG_5202

not a whisper was heard
from the blossoms
of the way
we misbehaved
and did not see
the reason we were standing
alone and wondering
what was the meaning
the beginning
(and the end)
flowers bloom
when spring begs
life rises with them
so shall we all
touch the sky
the space between us
exists only in time
the heart is not confined
it knows only love
(asking)
come to me
let it be

Photo “Cherry Blossoms on the Potomac” by gfs 2020

No time to cry

Photo: Boardwalk at Bethany Beach, DE by gfs

Time is all I have to keep
And all now you’ve given up
Faded leaves are washed away
In snow melt seen turning to clay

Rivers run cold as the hills unfold
Letting down in their winter dreams
Maples will fill up-rushing again
For the sweetness of life to become

Was it hard to go with no hand to hold
at the crossroads when waking to dreams
I’ll wonder at this and a thousand things
In the days that are mine still ahead

For today you see I’ve no time to cry
No way to find all the tears
I’ll keep them for you to come when they’re due
In a place and a time left to find

Agape

What voice is crying

in the wilderness

What song

is there carried

on the wind

Does the grass

thank the sun

for warm summer days

or feel sorrow

for the cold

winter wind

Spring brings joy

Persephone comes

into our hearts

and our home

Children find flowers

Brides their true love

as the light of the world

shines true

Photo: Danube River by gfs using “Waterlogue” app

Casablanca – (We’ll always have Paris)

I kissed you in the morning rain
Dreaming there along the Seine
The city seemed to melt beneath
Our ray of love unending

Walked hand in hand together there
Elysian fields remembered
the Champs-Élysées’ parade of life
filled the daylight with forever

Montmartre’s steps took away our breath
and wrapped in purple twilight
Watched sunset shadows wash the streets
and paint a starry night …

While raising a Chardonnay’s soft bouquet
We toasted the City of Lights
The ages past, to all of France
Her romance, and her sights

Yes, we’ll always have Paris –
like the Seine our mem’ries will flow
Love isn’t always all that we dream
yet always more than we know …

Photo: https://www.timesofisrael.com/real-life-casablanca-story-is-even-more-dramatic-than-the-hollywood-classic/

Sitka Soup for the Soul

How do we imagine life leading us somewhere, and the randomness of it all. The synchronicities and consequences of our actions? Unless we, looking over our lives, reflect on who we are, and how we got to be this person, we might miss the importance, the value others have had on our thinking, and as a direct result, our lives, and experiences.

This world lost the presence of a great soul Easter Sunday morning, while so many of us were celebrating the resurrection of one, I found myself reflecting on the loss of another. Will Swagel and I met at New York University – we grew up barely 20 miles from each other on Long Island, but it took 18 years of life for our sacred contract to bring us together. The day I walked into room 601 at the Brittany Dorm on 10th St. was one of those rare occasions where, when you meet someone you feel a connection, in the minds eye, that goes back centuries, millennia. Thinking back, it may have been to the wisdom schools of Greece, because to me, it was as much philosophy (love of Sophia – knowledge) as it was friendship. It was Will who put Isabel Hickey’s book Astrology: A Cosmic Science in my hands. He introduced me to the poetry of Joni Mitchell, and Marshall McLuhan’s – The Medium is the Massage, James Joyce, Beethoven’s Symphonies, and there is the night to remember in New Paltz, NY, under a icy, starlit winter sky, where we concluded that Prometheus may have given us fire – but that “Man took the fire, and there was hell to pay”.

Will was born in the sign of Aquarius, the water barer, in the crisp cold electric air of winter, and I a Scorpio, a fixed water sign – ice … We had a connection. Aquarius, Hickey says, is the most human sign of the Zodiac, and while we all have flaws, Will’s humanity lives well in my mind; He freely shared whatever was his to offer, he had a unquenchable thirst for knowledge, a love of the arts, and literature, and of course his own self-expression in his assenting voice and always through his writing.

In the 1970’s everyone drove Volkswagen’s, and another connection we had was “Jerome” (named after Jerome Ave in the Bronx, NY) a sky blue 1967 VW Beetle – any collector today will tell you they were the best year made and he proved it. When we left NYU, Will and his two closest friends, Renee and Jerome left to go on a cross country adventure, while I turned wrenches at at Bell Bug works and listened to John Denver’s Rocky Mountain High. But our bond remained and not more than 6 months after they returned Will and I were roommates again on Misty Road, Rocky Point, NY – Cats and kittens, lot’s of maryjane, and endless conversation about the meaning of life. We both drove our beetles, rode my motorcycle, and listened to a collection of LPs, many of which I still do. We read a lot and we never owned a TV. It was the end of the Vietnam era, and our country was changing, as were we – leaving Misty Road to continue our education, me to the car dealers, and Bill to SUNY New Paltz, to finish his degree.

And so we grew, up and apart, but there were letters, photographs, phone calls, and families to raise. I admired his move San Francisco, he knew what was right, and did it, he knew how to love, and shared it well.  I always felt our connection, no matter the years, a phone call always brought us back to our own Ode to Joy.

Step by step he was lead to Sitka – the old Russian Capital, this Russian Jew, who got beat up when he was a kid for killing Jesus, found his home in Sitka. The ocean, the nature, the people. I always felt a warmth from him when he talked about his life there. The place that held him warmly in its heart, as I know he felt the same.  I can only wonder at what fond stories his neighbors will tell, but I do know this man, who lives as a brother in my memory.  He will be missed, by me and by people I will never know, in ways too numerous to describe, except that we share a common bond; We knew the man, his sometimes sly laughter, his cigarettes, his unbuttoned coats, who wrote ten times ten thousand words, touched just as many hearts and will live lifetimes over and over in all of our hearts.