tuesday, may 13

here i sit
startled into joy
by the jutting poem
emerging as clear
inspiration
from the granite
sandwich.
i pause in the pausing
place
the bamboo worn
away
by impatient
footprints
wanting to get
closer
to the
miracle
of these
unexpected
words.
i read the gift of them
came from you,
dear tobi earnhart gold
age 9
from my favorite
bolinas, california
a river of words
contest
winner
how old are you
now?
and how did you
know
your
words
would give me
pause
to see this place
this glorious
walnut
creek
and cause me,
as you have
to spend some looking time
seeing, at last,
your grandmother tree.
fallen
as she may be
your words
have brought her
and indeed this
place
finally
alive
to me.

seeing

oh without
camera to
capture this
to spread across
the weight of
white--
to capture the
shadow of hand
holding pen
dancing
its up and down
undisciplined
in the rightness
of its letters
cast as they
are the medicine
of shadows
releasing
their contents
holding still
both writers
hand and
dancing pen
there is a world
a way--a
standing
in the way of
the light
that causes
them
all
to be
here
on this
page
this brush
of memory
this veil
of light
lifted
to expose
itself
in
these
red
words

a glimpse cast
and then escaped
there is no re-creation of this
moment
here.