Waterfowl And Breadcrusts

Feeding ducks at the pond, from a sack full
Of bread crusts, the birds which swim near,
Are the tame ones, the other, wild travelers
Stay further away, perhaps out of fear...
And my daughter ignores the feathered
Multitude, insisting, instead, on giving
Bread to a lone, misplaced and weathered
Bird, forced away to the edge by the flock,
It comes ashore, unafraid, takes bread
From her hand, it does not fuss or balk
Or run away, the strange ugly duck instead
Looks at us, with a seemingly human eye,
"How did I end-up here, and why?"

Long Live Rock

How to describe the punch-the-sky feeling,
The throbbing excitement inside me,
The first time I heard,  in 1970,
The vinyl album "Led Zeppelin III"...

Don't matter where I'm at,
Don't matter who I am,
All is changed by Page's
Fingers-on-the-frets, at 33 RPM.

World Order

A quick test of what
Civilization is all about:
You turn on the faucet,
Clean water comes out.

Russia

Cursed, but also blessed, to be located
On Eurasia, Vikings to the west, Turks
To the south, Chinese to the east, Russia
Is fated to find whatever wins and works
To ensure Slavic security and prosperity,
Starting with survival through the winter,
Russia endures, with guts and temerity.

Permanent Stranger

Living like a drop of oil,
Undissolved, in the water
Land of the gods, I toil,
Like other Japanese,
But do so in isolation
From the ancient tribe,
Which is called a nation
By outsiders, like me,
Who misunderstand it, from
Distance, across the sea.
Meanwhile, the Japanese
Live and work impermeably,
In clan, club, and cabal,
With oil-drop foreigners,
Dispersed among them all.

Suddenly Bare Tree

Yellow leaves piled along the gutter,
Where they were washed together
By a storm, which caused the utter
Nakedness of the winter Ginko tree,
Now completely stripped, with branches bare
Brown and gray, facing December's air.
Wasn't it just yesterday? When all
The glorious golden leaves were there,
On the branches, before their sudden fall.

Sayonara

A transient feeling of pressure
And warmth, the breath near
The back of my ear,
As we whisper and hug,
Before you disappear...

The Message Of The Reeds

The long reeds of grass
Have turned golden and
Brown, the cold winds pass
Over, causing wave-sway
And quiet rustling sounds,
In the waning of an autumn day,
Where I'm walking beside
The bowing yellow plants,
With a sense of transition inside.

12:12 PM, 12 December 2012

An event, rather, a moment, occurring
Only once in a hundred years or so,
Made by man's clocks, not the stars,
Five twelves, all lined up in a row
In a rare synchronous pattern for
A minute, then gone before I know.

12:12, 12/12/12

When Will We Learn?

A madman attacked a Connecticut school,
Spilling the blood of the children;
But honestly, didn't our culture of guns,
Enable the sicko that killed them?

Small Miracle On The Shrine Hill

On the winter trail to Suwa Shrine,
About halfway up the hill,
In a spot of winter sunshine,
Stands a hardy Daffodil,
Who somehow got its seasons
Crossed, and doesn't grow
In springtime, for reasons
Mysterious and unknown
It shares its beauty, all alone,
When most everything around
is cold and dull and browned,
Such a wondrous, holy, sight,
Blooming green, yellow, and white.

December Shelter

The windows rattle and shake,
Assaulted by winter winds,
But the windows do not break,
Despite the frosty turbulence,
They protect the warm dry
Space, where I hide,
From arctic's deadly breath outside.

The Protection Of Toads

Your schedule doesn't matter,
Or the busy plans you made,
You stop to gaze in wonder,
At the glowing toads' parade.

Luminous amphibians on
Patrol in a municipal park,
What are they protecting
Us from, out there in the dark?

Cavemen's Legacy

There is in us a power,
We feel it when we gather
Around the fire, sharing
meat and stories, rather
Than staring at the sky
Alone, this power in us
Warms, protects, it is why
We endure, even thrive,
In the unforgiving place
Where we must survive.

Real Estate's Broken Promise

She sees the sea, and seasons
Passing, from the balcony of a
Condo bought, by him, for reasons
Related to taxes, the sea stretching
Out over to Chiba, its beauty not
Always obvious or fetching
In shades of slate, gray, and blue,
The whole point of the property
Was supposedly: the view,
Which, admittedly can take
One's breath away, on those few
Days of the year, when she
Can actually sense the sun's
Shift, and smell the ancient sea,
But lately, given loneliness and liquor,
It pleases, only incidentally...

Happy Life

If you want to keep your marriage
From falling apart,
Just keep on pushing
That shopping cart.

Mother Daughter Haiku

Strange, small reassurance,
Hearing the sounds of their arguing,
Meaning all is normal.

Powerball Winner

Standing at the counter of a country
Convenience store, carefully looking
At the numbers on a ticket you bought
Last week, along with items for cooking,
You slowly understand what ought
Not to happen is actually coming true,
As the numbers match-up, one-by-one,
With the real big winner, and you
Realize you will never need to worry
About money again, and your heart
Beats fast, as it all sinks in, you hurry
To double-check, and the numbers
Are plain proof, that for better or worse,
You are now very rich, which could be
Your future's paradise, or a curse.

French Roast

It's the second cup of java
That will wake up and urge,
Ideas and imagery
To tumble and surge.

Our Saturdays

We'll soon be off, to perform
Our well-worn week-end
Routine, first coffee and warm
Pastries, checking out news
On our hand-held devices,
Then it's off to cruise
The aisles of the big box store,
And we're with each other,
That's enough, don't need more.

Surveillance Reports

The new gray morning is greeted
By cries in the language of crows,
Exchanging intelligence on locations
Of a garbage breakfast, I suppose.

Walmart, 23 November 2012

A funny, ugly, sight
Of shoppers involved
In a Black Friday fight
Over trinkets, they
Push, punch, and bite.

Stump's Story

Cut and fallen, nothing left, it appears,
A gnarled trunk and roots remaining,
But that's enough for the tree spirit
To endure doggedly, quietly, retaining
A hundred years of sensations,
Breezes above caressing branches
Which gave leafy haven to generations
Of lives smaller than the grand old tree,
Who now, laid-low by a chainsaw,
Embraces its existence, stoically.

(Photo by Geoffrey Hamilton, 1955-2011)

Pilgrims And Indians?

We give thanks for what we perceive
To be happiness, meaning full stomachs
And the food and water we receive
Through a system complex beyond our
Imagining, we give thanks for the peace
And order made possible by the power
Of a system too big to comprehend,
For which we pay taxes, and we kill
So many turkeys, trusting it will
All be O.K., in the end...

A Guest Poem...

The Piper

(By George Thomas)

Blows the woodwind devil,
Play the wicked bard
To his tune all dance
The reluctant dance most hard.

With every act we take
To craft his bitter reed
When draws the time of harvest
We collect from cursed seed.

Decide we:
"Dance this second!"
Decis we:
"Dance next year!"

When comes to call, the Piper,
All pay the price we fear.