Standing Still


At the bus stop in London,

I wait fixated for the next one to arrive,

Observing all the passengers,

Snug and embroiled in their lives,

Get on and off the bus,

As another conductor looks through me,

Like I didn’t exist.


The traffic is heavy,

But moving quickly,

Like a symphony,

I am transfixed, watching the people,

And the noise,

In Silence.


As if it didn’t happen,

But I know it all did,

Some lives must have been affected by me,

But I seem of little use or effect right now.

Watching as another bus and its cargo,

Stay in perpetual motion.


Without me.



He waits in the wings,

Quietly sitting just a few seats away,

Observing, absorbing, patience redefined.


The more at peace you are,

The greater his tenacity.

Willing to appear invisible for years at a time.


Then suddenly an opening appears in the movie,

Something smothered in desire, old longings, past deeds,

And remembrances.


Time to try again.

Father’s Day Blessings

The rain falls sweetly, on this Father’s Day morn,

Watering the grass,

Renewing again the growth of nature.

As I feel the green leaves soaked in delight,

Absorbing the love of God, in life bringing water.


Then, via Skype from another state,

A granddaughter tries to “tweek” my nose,

Muttering words of love interspersed with babble,

Only understood by a grandfather,

Who responds with similar language.


Counting blessings this day.




Spiritual But Not Religious

I know what I like,

When a day touches me because of the joy it brings,

Or someone spreads their love like steaming butter over my hot toast,

And the water is particularly calming by the lake.

All of these reach deep inside.


To a place only known to me … and God.