Forgiving Rose

In an English garden of neglect,

Whose beauty no one remembers or knows,

A stem rises above the weeds,

Sporting the most forgiving rose.

It doesn’t question the sudden decay,

Or ask of the gardener’s health.

The rose's concern is survival;

Therein lies its beauty and wealth.

My Delta

Under a slivered yellow moon,

When the stars take back the night,

Mt. Diablo turned blue in the horizon,

As the Mallard ducks took flight.

Crayfish in the mud and reeds,

Hid themselves from greedy carp.

White Egrets hovered over them,

In search of any beating heart.

This aquatic life continued daily

Along the banks the river wets;

The sun sinking behind houseboats

Ignited flaming red sunsets.

Yet I remember most of all,

Red Wing Blackbirds in the reeds;

The Bull Frog's baritone echoes. 
Dove and quail nests in tall weeds,

Wild lily pads and crickets,

Hyacinths and thick Duckweed…

Remind me of my youth and home;

Memories, like dyes that bleed.

Speed

Impatient in my younger days,

I had the need for speed…

I yearned for the years to hasten,

A “Buffet of Life” fueled greed.

Faster on the roller skates,

The cars, the years, the pen…

I realized rockets have no brakes

I’ll never be young, or fast, again.