Thursday, December 7, 2017

Houston #3

Walking to work in the dark in the midst of this Houston cold snap. People of means are wearing hats, winter coats and gloves. It's about 42 degrees. The darker figures without means wear blankets in doorways. The police cleared them from their little city of tents under the bridge a few months ago but many have apparently moved right back in, and now it's become a locally talked about civil rights case. They're building lots of condos here but not for them.

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

Houston #2

I sweat through my new suit walking the eight or ten blocks to work before sunrise. During the course of the day the temperature drops maybe twenty-five degrees. This causes some alarm among the locals like a blizzard might in New England. For me, it's the gift of an October afternoon.

Monday, December 4, 2017

Houston #1

It's humid here and warm compared to the twenty-eight degrees I left in Boston this morning. Checked into a suite paid for by the company, something new to me, then I did what I always do. More like what always used to do when i had the chance to travel- go down to the street pick a direction and start walking.

When I do that, I try to listen to what the place is telling me. I let it take me where it wants me to go, let it show me what it wants me to see. 

Saturday, December 2, 2017

Morning Chat

I stopped feeding the birds
when the single male
ruby throated hummingbird
moved off in the Fall.
Last night I dreamed two
female cardinals were speaking
to me through the slider
waiting for me to resume.

Monday, November 27, 2017

Broke The Window Of My Chest

It Did Me

So much time has gone now
wondering if finding a strand of
my hair would make you smile
or if hearing a song from those days
would bring tears - I don't think so.

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

The Company You Keep

The snow didn't stick long
but there was a coating in the morning
yesterday and when I walked outside at 
sunrise there was that smell, snow
on evergreen boughs, nostalgia, still 
gray days are coming and the wind, ice,
punishing cold are right behind them
working together to make me something
of a lonely pilgrim with ordinary
hardships and bits of memory
for company