I’m a fish out of water,

flailing fins desperately

as I reach for things

I’ll never grasp

as I watch the shoreline move away

with each crashing wave

and feel the heat of the sun

burn the sand beneath me.

I close my eyes

and wait for the inevitable:

either someone will help me

find my way back to water

or I’ll suffocate on this lonely beach.

The great lakes would swallow you,

the ocean not know you're there.

The Finger Lakes will cradle

and expand your life, and share.

Water a mile across.

Water an hour long.

Water white-capped in the wind

and glass at night when it's gone.

Stand beside it with some wine;

drink its bounty deep.

Smell and gaze and hear and taste.

Feel its breadth, then sleep.

Cold water

splashes through my safety

and licks my skin,

challenging me to believe

perhaps this isn’t a dream.

My cheeks are hurting

from my current state

as I listen to the stories

of how riverside boulders

got their names.

Bursts of adrenaline

balanced by the serenity

of water flowing.

I am higher than I have been

in quite some time,

not only in altitude.

In the shade of the truck

we share a moment in time

e tenho borboletas

and very sore cheeks.

The night creeps upon us

above the tree line

and there she was: my queen;

begging for me to claim

what was mine all along.

I gleefully scoff as I make

this realization

and stars begin to pour out of her

across the night sky.

In a tent,

wrapped in blankets and dog hair,

we giggle ourselves

into our first slumber.

I don’t remember my dreams,

does that mean I am still sleeping?

You can swing a little higher,

risking the fall

and being called out.

But you pitched your ideas well enough

that no one is safe and your heart

won’t be foul

and when you come down

and the tremors slide out

the stars will be balls you can juggle

and the moon an ice-cream scoop

you may fold yourself into.

The breeze is relaxed,

No cars on the road,

Just the streetlights,

And stragglers walking home,

Vibing alone,

But the honey hue of the sunset,

Seems welcoming,

As I sit on this grass,

Feels like grains of rice under my fingertips,

As birds sing in the distance,

It's calming.

They want one thing yet demand another,

Not able to follow their own guidelines,

Don't ask people to write,

If you don't have an idea in mind,

It's a waste of everyone's time,

And I'd rather be digging up moon dust,

Than searching for common sense,

In people who have none.

The heat of the blazing sun beats down upon the sands

On the beaches along the coast of Mexico’s Cancun.

Lazy days, drinks in hand, it’s where life has no demands;

Summers like these are few and never come too soon.

Sailboats drifting swiftly across the crystal blue waters

While a multitude of peddlers sell homemade wares.

There’s nothing as wonderful as this side of the border

Where the people are so kind and beyond compare.

Nights under the stars with the soft sound of waves,

Colors of music drifting to fill the hearts of all.

It’s something for which my soul will always crave

And with the utmost fondness shall always recall.

The lush heat and beauty of Mexico’s coast compels

And beckons to me in summer, weaving me in its spell.

To the person who smiled at my mother when I wasn’t around

To janitors

To the child sharing the favorite part of his lunch with a shy girl

To neighbors who pick up trash in the road

To my son who reminded me that we could never replace his sister

To puppies waiting at the door for you to come home

To people who anonymously scatter kindness wherever they go

To the millions of folks who may never have been thanked

Thank You!