Stone Wheel

Before anyone
can remember
the mountain broke.

Nameless hands cut chipped
and rubbed the fractured
chunk to round
lifted its immeasurable weight
onto the sister base
and made it roll.

Missing the Record Store

Ten years ago, I could distinguish
between voices.
Sylvia McNair didnt sound like
Renee Fleming.
Sutherland, Cabbale' and Battle
were distinct and elegant.
Today I struggle
to name Angela Gheorghiu
or Anna Netrebko by voice.

It isnt my ears. It's time.
I dont listen.

Of the Sea

Blue turquoise
and green her favorite
skirt flowed down the line
of lithe legs to sandalled feet
that shuffled and skipped
to the bossa beat.

Leave the Door

she said
The draft is nice.

A bit of it stirred
a stone grey lock
of hair on her forehead.

In a chair in the dim
hotel room she quietly
rubbed her swollen knee.
That knee.
The one that needed
to be replaced
but her doctor said it
wasnt bad enough.

She smiled
bright eyes shining
like the photos
from her childhood.