Most of us are missing a lot this year, precious perspective. This dog is Oso who moved with my son and daughter-in-law to Buffalo, New York last October. This photo captures his eager soulful spirit and our last day together for many months.

Last Sip

God I hate coming to it,
the last bite of pie,
in its melted moat of
ice cream, sweetest slurp.

And beer,
devastation guzzle,
last potato chip,
crunch cinch.

And people.

How I’ve preferred
heat and sweet
malt and salt
because

the last kiss
last hug at the airport,
recently,
my son and daughter-in-law
moving across country,
hurts too much.
Don’t allow it.

Dig

I am excavating
what is lost and kept.
Like tonight,
as garlic browned for garlic bread,
waiting for guests who are quite late.

What is the confluence
of impermanence and eternity?
The brown bear sighted through pine boughs,
when one sustains green gaze,
the entire ocean commemorated in peaks of meringue.
Certain music offers it, a base note
a second later than expected.
Garlic ushers a slideshow of dinners,
wine glasses, falling in love,
Van Morrison singing Into the Mystic,
later, years of mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving,
the tongue seeking wisps of the sweet herb.

This life, the only given is time, the amount unknown.
Tonight, I have been given extra, unexpected.
Time to find matches,
light candles, tidy the fridge,
time to lay out a cracker plate.
A small salad assembles itself without effort
while I enjoy a few extra moments with my son
who will be heading back to college in two weeks.

It is all here at once,
the anticipating, the having, the missing,
the arriving, the eventual leaving.
I brush the dirt from this love,
rinse until it runs clear.