St Patrick’s Moon

St Patrick’s moon shone
gently on us as we left
Texas, back to our lives.
The brief stays seem sad
and this was the last visit
with all of us single.

St Patrick’s moon shone
on the new baby — born
to make some forget
the tragedy its birthday
marked — the sadness of
this anniversary of death.

St Patrick’s moon shone
through the just-cracked blinds
on Laurisa’s face — the new
life growing within her body.
More family, more joy,
more love to make us forget.

St Patrick’s moon shone
through the rear window of
JD’s car onto my face as
I smiled. My life seems
to be getting closer to real.
I laughed a little because
life can be so wonderful.



The peacocks called for help as they always did,
the red dust had dulled the color of their feathers.
I figured that was the reason they called for help.
We arrived at my uncle’s farm that morning – around ten.
The hotel breakfast – a pastry and juice – was enough.
I don’t remember everything – just that
I liked those birds – and somehow
always ended up at the creek – I had chased
one of the peacocks down there, through the long vacant
hog pen – our usual route.
It was a game – and the peacock played along.
Sometimes the chase was interrupted by
Uncle Earl’s large black turkey.
The turkey would warble and hiss.
I would try to scare the turkey away,
while my companion would wait
on a nearby chicken coupe or fence post.
The birds would never follow me down to the
hay barn – I went down there for that reason sometimes.
It was always quiet and still.
I’d always find myself, eventually, on the roof
of Earl’s house – my brothers would be lost
in their world of video games,
my mother might be chatting with her cousin
on the porch – catching up from last summer.
But I would be on the roof – looking out at the immensity –
from the hay barn (just barley visible) to the creek,
running the length of the farm.
I was almost scared of it, and sitting up on the roof,
I’d plan my next rendez-vous
with the peacocks.



we considered our capes
and took them seriously.
my brother and i, we were
powerful and strong.
we defended the universe
(or our little piece of it)
from evil forces; frogs
and butterflies and
we claimed a tall elm
for our hideout. the
arsenal placed there
at our feet was perfect
to fight evil forces.
occasionally we would
capture a horned-toad,
just as we were called in
for dinner. we’d let
the horned-toad go and
we would “fly” inside.
all in a days work for



for Jennie Lloyd’s baby

Enveloped in darkness —
surrounded by perfect blackness
(the comfort of mother
on all sides)
Grow gracefully, child of
Love — inside your peaceful shelter.

Your mother is special — young and
full of energy and wonderful
thoughts and hopes and you.
Kiss her often, precious
child of God.

Feel the smile you bring
to her face when
your mother sees herself
in you and sees
things she wishes she could be.

Be careful of the world.
Hold tightly to the hands
that guide and protect you.
Know when to run home and
when to soar free.

Sometimes parents need
a shoulder to cry on —
welcome that moment
and comfort those who need you,
child of Light.

Be who you know you are.
Don’t let the world hold you back.
You can be whoever you want.
I look forward to knowing you,
child of Jennie.



Spoiled with love and round —
the two-year-old look.
His bright wide eyes look
in wonderment.
The figures to him
are blurred and scary —
he doesn’t smile


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