Snapshot
image of this place
image of these faces
image of our laughter
after time passes
memories encased in this
snapshot
poem- in a minute June 22, 2015
In a minute
we can rage
strife chagrin
strife mend
In a minute
all can change
life begin
life end.
In a minute
In a second
Breath
Gone.
,
,
RIP Mickey. Can’t believe it.
(We lost one of our former grads today. 😥 )
poem- adaption June 20, 2015
Water
flows downhill
finds its level
makes its way
adapts.
Water
boils over
floods plains
rises to the sky
adapts.
Water
nurtures
pours
roars
adapts.
Water
drips
drops
adapts.
I
am
water.
poem- endings June 19, 2015
Tonight,
we’ll laugh until tears streak our cheeks
and remember all those moments
that made this a special place.
But beneath the laughter
will be the melancholy knowing
that with these leavings
we are left to try to rebuild something new.
I suppose we’ll be okay,
but I can’t help but wish you’d stay.
.
.
.
(End of the school year. Staff leaves. New staff arrives. Some years it’s just so fabulously synergistic that it is particularly depressing to see the end).
poem- heat June 18, 2015
Summer bakes us all
we glisten, basted,
glossy, full of scent
on the beach coconut
on the track athletic musk.
The dog lies panting
collapsed in a cool for now spot
We long for air conditioning
and winter ice.
poem-lonely June 17, 2015
He’s in the man cave
staring at the tube
occasionally laughing
When he emerges
he ignores her as she does
her thing in
her space.
He’ll walk past and head to bed
without a word,
and she’ll watch him in the hall
wondering whether
everyone feels lonely.
poem- streets June 16, 2015
The streets are not the same
but they still echo with the memory
of our steps.
I still hear your laughter
as we held hands and ran through the rain.
Ever after, I hummed Neil Sedaka on that street
and contemplated surrealism.
Decades later,
I can still hear our laughter.
poem- missed June 14, 2015
The mark was missed
the complications overwhelmed the need
for simplicity
and now the resulting confusion
obliterates the good intentions and the message
that she thought was being conveyed.
The arrow did not hit the target;
it is quivering in a tree several feet away,
but at least it’s not in anyone’s
back.
Shawn L. Bird 