A Mystery in 27 Syllables

A man in black, waiting
On his front stoop, watching
A woman in blue, watering
In her front yard, wondering.

 

California Bound

Flying over New York at night,
The dark Atlantic falls from sight.
Trees crowd the winter scene,
Toll roads flow like lava streams.
Then we turn toward distant shore,
Away from family — home once more.

 

The Next Word
For Mei Mei Chang and her grandchildren

You are the next word
In an ancient poem.
The first word
Was written many generations ago
In another place
At another time.
Now the poem continues
With you,
Telling our story,
The future of our family.

 

A Peaceful Feeling
For Megan

Your essence is of the sun
On a still day in a small garden,
Or of the moon
On a clear night in a calm harbor.
Your presence assures me — 
All is well,
Or soon will be.