LAST THING BEFORE BED

      Wherever Gypsy finds to plant her pees
      Depends on countless subtle vagaries
      Of scent and sensibility beyond
      My reckoning, to which she may respond
      And do the curtsy she’s gone out to do.

      My job’s to urge her on and to pursue
      Her random amble through the night-lit yard
      Stalking behind her as if keeping guard
      Trying to anticipate just where she’ll squat,
      Never the same place in the whole back lot.

      At last she dips and does her destined chore
      Then plainly pleased she gallops to the door
      Knowing that I’ve in hand her final treat
      For which she has performed this nightly feat.

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TWO PERSPECTIVES

        Expanded, elevated consciousness,
        The surest sign of human beings’ success,
        Eludes, so far, all but a favored few,
        The avatars of what may yet ensue—
        Unless our avarice and enmity prevail,
        Causing our misbegotten race to fail.

        Dean Swift predicts calamity is sure
        And wonders how we’ve managed to endure
        As long as this, atrocious as we are,
        Yet knows in his cold heart our end’s not far.

        Ralph Waldo Emerson begs to dissent:
        While recognizing our ferocious bent,
        He sees in us the power to transcend
        Beyond our folly, finding a blissful end.

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THE POSSIBLE HUMAN

for Jean Houston

       What is our task but striving to become
       The best of our potentiality—
       To fly to our grand heights and then to plumb
       The depths of wisdom in our latency.

       The spectrum of humanity is broad,
       Though typically constricted in one’s life
       By failing to acknowledge there’s a god
       Within transcending storm and strife.

       This deity or spirit is a guide
       Intent to lead us to our human goal,
       Urging us to take the longest stride
       Required of us and finally grow whole.

            That wholesomeness we seek essentially
            Is bonding with our inner deity.

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ALAS, ALACK

         It used to be the salutation “Dear”
         Began a letter penned to anyone.
         Its complimentary close bid a sincere
         “Farewell” when all your courtesy was done.
         But now a brusque “Hi there” is all you’ll see,
         While “See ya” ends an email breezily.

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AFTERGLOW

   My grand breakthrough to Cosmic Consciousness,
   My mystical debut, came long ago
   When I was just eighteen.  It came to bless
   Me with a sense of how I ought to grow,

   And ever since, my memories of that light
   And warmth, that purple glow, remain,
   And when I’ve strayed, they help to set me right:
   May that illumination never wane.

   I heard no angel’s voice, nor saw a scene
   Of heavenly beatitude and grace,
   As stories tell; I simply felt serene
   And keen at once, suspended in that space—

          Until that glorious evening was through,
          Though even now I feel its residue.

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THE KNOWN UNIVERSE

    That we are here is miracle enough
    To prove the universe is more than stuff,
    More than just matter, mass and energy,
    But some informing consciousness that’s free
    From physicality, the ghost behind
    Appearances, the soul of matter: Mind.

    That metaphysics should return today,
    Though long repressed by Mechanism’s sway,
    Owes to the power of Einstein’s quantum views
    Which put uncertainty back in the news
    And hinted that intention underlies
    The evolutionary enterprise.

         The Cosmos has a purpose of its own.
         And we’re the knower by whom that is known.

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ORIGIN STORY

     At first, God clapped and angels sang,
     Then: Mother Universe—the whole Shebang!

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