The Sunrise

I missed the sunrise this morning 

Waking early at 530

Reading the news in bed

Finally dressing at 630

Layer after layer 

It would be cold 

On the shore of the sound

My wife woke as I was about to leave and asked me to get her a cup of coffee

The night before I’d rubbed her feet

The day before I learned she needed 

to tuck her sweater into her jeans 

Because of the weight she’d lost

Before that I had helped her into the car

on the way to the hospital on Christmas Day 

When I approached the door to our house

holding the cup in my hand

a few sugars on top of the lid

nestled in a napkin 

The smile on her face

was more beautiful than any sunrise

That I have witnessed or could imagine.

And if my hopes and dreams are realized

I will see her lips turn into a smile

and her love for me shine like the rays of a rising sun

for many years to come.

On the Anniversary of a Father Gone

Jerry Rutberg – June 12th 1921 – April 2nd 1965

My father loved;

A rigours hike up to a mountains top, a well told tale and the sound of waterfalls at a trailside stop.

He love his family, his brothers and sisters, my siblings, my mother and me. He was kind and fair and for all he believed in dignity.

He loved the shining light of curiosity in a child’s eye and to light that fire within his children and students with the question “why”.

Why is the sky blue, why do the heavens shake when the winds rage on and the thunder quakes. Why does the world turn and what would happen if?

As I grow older I feel compelled to consider those gifts that fathers put away for their heirs. The birthright, those pieces of the family tradition and wealth that carry on the tribes way, so coveted they must be assigned.

I think of all the gifts my father gave to me, and as our family thins, that I can pass on to you my children and your children.

My father was a fine example of a man who’s short life touched so many. His photographs, writings, our memories and learnings are testaments and his legacy.

So I bequeath to you those treasures he gave to me.

Love nature, take pleasure in the sights and sounds around you. Embrace your family and hold them close. Listen well to others, and find truth in what they say, treat them with dignity and fight for their rights. Pass on what you have learned to those around you and never stop asking and finding answers to the questions that begin with why.



The words
falling like tears
finding their way to
nestle together on a page
can salve our wounds,

Strangers scanning their order and sentiment

can make up their own meaning

and be awed by our intuition

or stare blankly at the page

of our inscrutable scribblings

We can stand in the light,
centering our selves
and repeat them out loud and
relive the journey
they made
from our soul to the pages
we hold before us.

Life – New Beginnings

Life is filled with new beginnings

each sunset and sunrise

tick of the clock


the terrible teens

dawn of recognition in another’s eyes

world shrinking around just the two you

love sweet love

children of your own

the world shrinks again

to frame a halo around each of your children’s heads

 each new beginning fraught with the potential of a scraped knee

or worse their disappointment

New beginnings, some missed steps as they grow but ample time to begin again.

Another round of new beginnings

we get to share as grandparents

Life is filled with new beginnings

New directions for you to choose in your journey.

There are an infinite number of new beginnings

one can have in one lifetime

The only limits we face are in the number of endings.

Papa I’ve Wandered – 1975

Papa oh Papa I’ve wandered
Far from the mountains where the eagles would fly
Far from the forests where the winds rushed and died
I remember the rivers carried yesterday’s rain
and the sounds of the waterfall calling my name
But how where your hands shaped
as they reached for mine
To catch me as I stumbled or to ease an incline
how were your arms held
did their swing match your stride
You were tall, I remember
with knapsack well strapped
on your green corduroy jacket
and your Irish tweed hat
I remember your eyes as they peered down at me
with a gleam and a twinkle
when a tall tale you’d tell
I’d sit hunched on a bolder as you’d weave your spell
There were trips to the city
that you loved so well
head back and laughing at the Village art fair
Awestruck and mocking as we looked at their wares
the fountain was offering a drink to the sky
you were comfortable their and with you so was I
But Papa, I’ve wandered and lost your in form
So I sit and write memories
in this way I mourn
for the days in the mountains where the eagles would fly
for the times in the city where the fountains met sky
for the moments we spent, that came to an end
for the years filled with days, hours and moments
not spent together, since then



Kneeling, I sit off centered

Drops of sweat

Fall from my face

And pool in a v

At the neck of my shirt

I slowly extend then sweep

My left leg along the floor

Towards my body

Across my center

Then fold it at the knee

And place it on

The wrong side of my right leg

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