Becoming the Color of Winter

As the world tilts toward darkness 

and seasons of color wane, 

when you feel life ebbing, look for me: 

I am the glint on evergreens 

lit against the clear embrace 

of cold air cleansed on Arctic ice. 

I am the swath of bare terrain 

of ochre earth and umber mud 

softened in a misting rain. 

I’m the stubble field of muted tan 

suffused in amber overtones 

streaked with shades of fading sun. 

And I’m the warmth of dancing light 

above a bed of hissing embers 

and layers of burnt-orange ash. 

Deep in an endless winter night 

on the bitter edge of winter, 

I will be your summer dream 

of sea-green tinged with deep blue hues 

framed by sunbeams slicing through storms 

that rumble along the horizon. 

Summers Once Were Cotton Candy

A memory shared by my daughter while riding the San Francisco Muni
home after work September 2, 2016.

Those fleeting hours we hit the strand – 

a band of cousins and eager aunts 

dragging our frazzled uncles in tow. 

Fueled by cokes and funnel cakes, 

we bounced around the beach pavilion 

trading a wad of tickets for thrills 

till, flushed, we faced our final ride – 

the ginormous log flume, 

which took six tickets 

or was it ten? We gave no thought, 

just hopped aboard a dugout log 

and off we floated, swept beyond 

the jostling crowd through a portal 

walled with wads of bubble gum – 

the scent of Juicy Fruit, chlorine, and fun. 

We went sliding down the sluiceway 

swirling into curves, swaying through 

a snake turn, sloshing round a bend 

which washed to the base of a towering mountain 

where gears engaged with mechanical thumps, 

shudders and clanks, the stink of grease 

on a slow rise to heights where young lives 

pause. We peered beyond our tiny selves 

to a miniature beach, the silent surf, 

the forever swath of water. 

The whole world lay at our feet 

so we let go our hold, small hands high 

the free fall 

took 

seconds 

the great splash 

even less. 

It was over in a childhood moment.