Stain-glass Eyes

A newborn has become family. Francis arrived a few days after the day he was expected and decided to start his entrance during a raging snow storm in New  York, in the Hudson Valley. My daughter, Liz, and her partner, Josef, saw several vehicles in the ditch as they carefully made it through the storm to their hospital. The pure joy of soft, warm snuggles with Francis can’t be seen as a value on the stock market to rise and fall. To me it hit the ceiling and won’t ever fall. I can’t think of any tactile electricity as pure and simple as my little grandson’s face near mine as I rock him in the chair his grandma and grandpa brought specially for his arrival. You might be thinking millions and millions of babies have been born and it’s common. An everyday occurrence. Not even very notable. You might say it’s like tiny ripples of water in a stream swerving smoothly around little rocks on the way to the Hudson River.   Wrong. The trumpets sounded, the birds sang. The sky faltered between w

When winter weather fluctuates, My body’s outer-layer drags me down. Lethargic it forces me   To pay attention.   Inside the bone-layers coil.   And keep a pulse of dull pain, From foot to skull.   Ligaments, muscles and tendons Constrict like traitors. They turn and run from battle. And feign injury. I’ve know for some time, their obsession is water. I’ve witnessed this mutiny before. My ship isn’t mine anymore When it happens. I’ve trained my mind to focus (if it listens) To call on my heart When I feel betrayal is inevitable. It’s happened a million times before. I see it coming. My heart, like a child, Eager and playful. holds my hand instantly. Assures me, “Feel the lake, feel the plunge.” I wait for joy to signal my brain, And reign in my body.   As my heart smiles,   And lets her hold on my hand relax. Until… BAMMM! The water is frozen. Snow races and tumbles across the ice in the wind. Like it’s trying to Unlock a steel-like door Without a key.   My bathtub fills like a small w