THE ARTISTRY OF MONET

I used to think wearing glasses was a curse.

I would kneel by my bed and pray…

thankful for all the gifts that were bestowed on me

still wondering why my eyes were created this way.

Until my parents took me to a museum.

I still remember that fateful day

where hanging on the museum walls

I saw paintings by Monet.

I remember thinking to myself..

How is this possible?

How can this be?

How can this man

this Mr. Monet

paint the world I see.

Now I’m no longer sad when I remove my glasses

and watch details of the world fade away

for I know I share my vision

with the artistry of Monet.

HAPPINESS

Some people believe happiness is a myth…of that assumption I have my doubts

for every day I am glad to discover so much to be happy about.

When I was young I’d secretly hope the day would never end

when I was outside playing in my neighborhood with friends.

or when seated around our table…talking non-stop…incessantly

eating, in between our words, with friends and family.

In my neighborhood, in my house…at my table…up a tree…

happiness was everywhere I went…it seemed to be following me.

and it continues to follow me today…with family, with friends…when talking,

when eating, playing, singing, dancing,…in silence or when walking.

In a mountain lake wildly swimming with family…I feel just as much elation

as when sitting quietly in a church for my granddaughter’s confirmation…

It is not a myth that happiness surrounds my heart…

allowing it to float carefree

or that each day it is more and more enhanced

by the people surrounding me.

MAGIC

The young boy said, “I don’t believe in magic…

I’ve never felt the thrill.”

The old man smiled as he squeezed his wife’s hand…

“One day, son, you will.”

THEY CAME TO ENTERTAIN US

They came to entertain us…high school students from St. Augustine

They came to dance…and I have to say their dancing was anything but routine.

And they were beautiful, these students, they came in all shapes and kinds

most of them were deaf…and a few of them were blind.

I saw the joy upon their face…never once did I see fear

as they danced…and performed together…to music they could not hear.

I love to experience moments when my consciousness expands

like watching students who couldn’t hear…dance…while singing with their hands.

I love Spanish, French and Italian…romance languages not to be missed

but I wonder…is it possible to add sign language to that list.

Spanish, French and Italian are pleasing to the ears…which comes as no surprise 

but signing is the only language that’s pleasing to the eyes.

There was a point in their performance when one of the students just by chance

put his two hands out in front of me and invited me to dance…

I could hear the music playing…I even knew the song

so I threw off my inhibitions and happily went along.

I forgot, however, I have no rhythm…the best I can do is prance

but the young deaf boy was patient and he showed me how to dance.

And though he didn’t improve my rhythm…he got me dancing to the beat

and I discovered the joy of music wasn’t in my ears or the joy of dancing in my feet.

As I tried to follow his movements…as I tried desperately to keep pace

I found the joy in me that moment could be found upon my face….

We all enter this world with certain limitations as well as certain gifts

And as I sat back down in my chair it made me wonder if…

The purest joy of life…as these students so easily express

Is to never take for granted the wonders we possess.

BEAUTY AND THE BEHOLDER

While our friend and neighbor is spending a week away

we’ve been sitting her dog Angus…and walking him every day.

He and I awaken early…before the sun comes up

and when he sees me getting ready…he greets me like a pup.

My understanding of beauty is personal…I know what’s beautiful to me

but on our morning walks I’ve come to realize…we see the world differently.

While I find beauty in the moon, in the stars, in how the clouds move in the breeze

Angus finds his beauty in the the grass, in the bushes…in the trees.

Every now and then we pause together…you will find us standing there

enjoying the beauty of the jasmine as its aroma fills the air.

We may linger a moment and listen…to what sounds the morning brings

how the trees will whistle in the wind…how the night owl or mockingbird sings.

And though we briefly share this beauty…the aromas and the sounds

I still find most of my beauty in the heavens…while his is mostly on the ground.

Our relationship is symbiotic…Angus, the dog, and I

for when he stops to sniff the ground…I stop to view the sky.

Perhaps that’s why we’re both excited as we’re heading out the door

anticipating some beauty we’ve not seen or smelled before…

I used to think beauty was in the eye of the beholder…as that old saying goes

but Angus has happily shown me…

beauty

 is also in the nose.

THEIR BEAUTY

Neither he

nor she

thought of themself as beautiful

so it came as a surprise

when they finally saw their beauty

reflected in each other’s eyes

BOWLING NEVER GETS OLD

I once played high school football…I even wrestled on their mat

but I was never a first class athlete…and I am comfortable with that.

My exploits in both fields will never be well known

but when it came to sports in general…I like to think I held my own.

Which is why when Deborah suggested we go bowling…

when she initially planted the seed

I thought, I’m coordinated enough at 66, and enthusiastically agreed.

And despite the fact we hadn’t been bowling since 1989

I thought, given my confidence and physical ability, I was going to shine.

I know I’m not as strong as I used to be, but after tying up my shoes

most balls were much too heavy…so I chose one the children use.

“Isn’t that ball a little light?” Deborah asked, (what was that a psyche?)

I ignored her veiled rebuke and concentrated on my strike.

My feet were planted, I lined it up and was mystified and appalled

when my first roll of my first frame became a gutter ball.

My confidence was quickly waning

I wondered: Is this what the bowling Gods have wrought?

“I think you want to knock the pins down?” Deborah smirked

as I lined up my second shot.

It seemed my brain and arms were at odds with one another

they weren’t working together at all

and when I rolled my second shot…

another gutter ball.

I improved and was eventually satisfied with my result…

although I found it hard to gauge.

Is it golf or is it bowling where it’s good to score your age?

No matter…I got a little better as each game did unfold

and here is what I learned the more and more we bowled:

I may not be the greatest athlete…no crowds…no adulation

but I still can have a lot of fun…once I accept my limitations.

And when Deborah asked, “Will we be back?” I said, “Of course we would.

We may never be great bowlers…but we make these shoes look good!”