all alone

A full smile under that helmet

Warm and spring all atound

Off on his bike, to the park

cycles

The sun comes down

My wife is in bed

Sping is not here 

What more to say

She

She is light she is love she dreams of horses and of goats she is strong and she is kind she is my friend and my wife she laughs and she plays she is my baby boy's mom. 

I love you Bebé.

 

Any annual pandemic

Fast came the Holidays

Flashed by through the Winter

Fear corraled our souls

any given afternoon

The ice is soft

The air springs in your face

The crow, indifferent 

Paid off

All those dystopian movies

I trained for this

A mask hangs by the door

uncertain

I wash a tomato,  an orange,

Deep in cold bleached spring water

Life has definitely changed 

adios al Poeta Aute

Se fue alevosamente hoy

Duele cuando una buena persona se va

Nos dejó el alma vacía 

Yet Again

It’s all here again

The pain in the upper back

Fooled by a virus

Late Storm

End of April yet snow
Storm came through with a heavy heart
Spring was hard in the days of old

The Kite (by my dad)

Over Colorado's sky
Steered by his Pilot's handy hand
The orange kite



AEI

a ball

A ball is a ball is a ball

C’est ci n’est pas une ball

April is almost gone

Sticks

Beating the sticks
The bandit rehearses his moves
On the soft cushion

The Bard

He, my little artsy son,
His wings in full display

A Prince in a large stage

Ode to a simple Life

Life is Short
We all know
Or leaned or discovered
One way or another
And there is charm and health
In leaving it as a productive life
Surrounded by family and friends
Isolated from the currents of the world
From what has always been for me
A small life
One that I rejected
A large life in a community
That shows up
For your last goodbye.

Future

This little boy 

Making Plans, work, hobbies, family

He does not seem mine

Seasons

I love winter for its whiteness

I love spring for its greenness and light

I love the seasons of my boy

Spring White

Spring snow
Both soft and sharp

Slash my cheeks

Roughing it down

I skied all day today
Not used to crash rocks and stumps
Yet rare that I do not hurt.

Clock Is Ticking

My time is accelerating

Or so I think or so I feel or so it seems

Yet I am stuck in a past swirl