If I Could Speak to Africa

If I could speak to Africa,
in a language all their own,
I'd tell them to use
the "holy books"
for fuel
and treat each other
as holy
instead.

12 March 2017

SUNNING TO VALPARAISO

Wearing only hat
and sunglasses,
ma-te in hand, I sit
on a chair on our
starboard-side balcony,
facing the sun.
As we head for our
port of destination,
Valparaiso, the surface
of the dark Pacific
is shimmering,
molten silver.

12 March 2016
(A Facebook memory, about which I had forgotten.)

ESSENTIAL

My voice reaches
South and North
America, Europe,
sometimes even Asia.
But Africa,
ancient homeland
of us all,
it does not penetrate.

Why?

An essential piece
of the world
is missing.

10 March 2017

FORTY-FOUR FIFTY SOUTH

From the magnificent and

now-familiar southern

stars, I see that

our course is north-

northeast. Calm wind

and sea. As we run

in the Gulf of

Corcovado, the

night is peaceful

as a cat.

10 March 2016

(a memory from a year ago)

My Grandmother's Generation

My grandmother's generation
mistook the Church
for sanctity,
and the Brits
for civilization.
Still, there are times
when I miss
that lost world.

9 March 2017

Sunrise in Aguas Dulces, Uruguay, March 8 2017, International Women's Day / Día internacional de la mujer.

I rise with the parrots in the trees.
My call goes out on the southern breeze.

This is the world that Nature made,
Among the trees, a sunny glade.
Here we may speak of what we love,
The grassy earth, the sky above.
No one shall tell us that this is wrong
For 'tis ordained, and in our song.
Many have passed along this way
And so have we, but did not stay.
For this is knowledge of present and past,
It comes to us, but will not last.
Outside this glade are others met
Who do not know, or would forget.
Hurrying they heed another call
And dying daily, live not at all.
Oh do not wake them while they sleep,
But live to love, and not to weep.

5 March 2017