Horseshoes and hand
grenades are the
only two things 
that count when 
they come close 
but not love 
oh no it
passes without sound 
and without stopping 
carrying on to 
somewhere else heretofore 
destined for same
nary a whisper 
barely a breeze 
never a breath 
or second thought 
happy birthday bean

Looking back 
I see
a mountain 
and on
that mountain 
a forest
and in
that forest 
a stream 
and looking 
further down 
I see
a lake 
and surrounding 
the lake 
a meadow 
and beyond 
the meadow 
a beach
and on
the beach 
I see
children playing 
and beyond 
the children 
I see 
the sea

To come 
to be 
to open 
and blossom 
to seek
and see
to turn 
and face
to find 
and follow 
and then 
when all
is done 
to wither
and withdraw 
to leave 

I don’t miss
I might long
longer than necessary 
but once let
go I’m free
no grasping or
clutching or crying
just let be 
me and this 
little slippery slope 
to slide down 
ending somewhere else 
for others to 
find and say 
well hello there 
glad you’re here

I read something 
and get inspired 
then write something 
and get tired 
I know something 
that this retired 
is the thing 
I’ve most desired