In those hills
In fact
The yak
If put in a sack
Knows how to quack
It’s just a simple
fact
– written in honor of Ogden Nash and Jack Prelutsky

Pale silver sky
reflects on black iron.
Fire escape raindrops
slowly illuminate
this visceral world.
Birds’ babble,
laughter
rises with mist
from the street below.
I smile and
close my eyes
in calm satisfaction.
I lie still
between soft, worn
cotton sheets,
above spring verdant trees,
mahogany branches,
as lemon glimmers
among
sapphire clouds.
I know the secret
of tiny mosaics
and that
magical
pink metal
laundry box
in the bathroom.
The fire escape ladder,
is my tree house
framed by wet-dark branches
and cobalt curtains.
The rain-bejeweled
fire escape
will take me
directly
to heaven.
Holding babies,
Making art,
Singing loudly
In the rain.
Horizon eats sun,
bursting tangerine.
Bold azure,
golden sky,
I pick up the laundry.
Night steals in,
blueberry cloud patches
brushes cornflower dome sky.
Laundry bag slung over shoulder
I gaze
above the knoll of weapons.
Pale rotund moon
strangled gently
by
silver
spider
strands.
Dark night,
sea seeps into sky.
I make footprints,
sand soft against my soles,
soft against my soul,
dipping my feet
at the ocean’s edge.
First light fills the sea.
Sable brushes
against sky.
Ebony ripples
topped
by pale whitecaps.
Still,
the sea is monotonously calm.
One small wave
lands at my feet.
Clouds fall into horizon.
Sky grows lavender
and pale azure,
flaunts charcoal clouds.
Rain
comes.
I
walk.
East,
stirring of orange glow.
By my right shoulder,
moon peers through clouds.
Sandpipers descend
from
wherever they spend the night.
Feast on
tiny shoreline organisms.
Nimbly avoid
the sweep of waves.
Race forward
and back
from water’s edge.
Skim across the sand
in a motley crew,
in a ballet of
choice
&
fate.
Now,
Bach’s major chords.
Lemon, rose, violet commingle,
create
a path to the horizon.
Clouds consume rising mist.
West light expands.
Sun capers
in cloud mountain peaks,
rises from the sea.
Indigo clouds stretch,
unveil coral cumulous,
so fluffy
I could eat them.
Cloud column rises from sea,
lays against green sky.
Thunder crashes,
booms.
Lightening cracks open sky.
Heat leaps from sand.
Moist
heat
rises,
cocoons me.
North turquoise sky,
dusky blue ocean.
I turn south,
purple horizon,
salmon undercoat,
azure and lemon overlay.
Creation
every day.
Rose, yellow, and verdant light
prances,
leaps from ocean surface,
swells.
Cobalt sky,
lightly brushed with
peach clouds.
Seagulls skim
above placid waters,
relentlessly fishing.
Stranded on wet, ochre sand
an upsidedown horseshoe crab,
decorated with barnacles,
a soldier pinned with medals
on his chest.
I roll him over,
gently place him
by surf’s edge.
Old horseshoe crab
feebly turns to sea,
patiently waits
for death to arrive.
“I am traveling
through the fires of hell
to God’s right hand,”
said Dan.
I knew little of his journey, but
one time he told me,
“Dad would
knock us upside the head,
beat the shit out of us.”
Then Dan joined the army.
I do not know more of his passage,
how Charon ferried him across
and how he bribed his way out
pass Cerebus’ three heads.
But
here and now,
we are
in this church of light,
learning to sit
and stand
and move in space,
learning to hear
and see
and touch
all over
again.