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Month: May 2026

Baloo Birthday

how is

the weather

there

it’s raining

here

the ground is

saturated

with a week of rain

since the sun

moved to Texas

on the second

in its 20th year

we have to light candles

round here

to mimic the ray

a lamp over a plant

to keep it green

the rain to keep it

real

no rain … no roses

right

only in the silence

do you hear

sight and sound

the senses most profound

or is it feeling

encircled

and held

like a ring

eternal …

that you wear

within

no matter

where or when or why or what

or who

the ring is true … true love

my beautiful baby

Baloo

TL

The Giving Tree

“once

there was

a tree …

and she loved

a little boy

and every day

the boy

would come

and he would

gather her leaves

and make them

into crowns

and play king

of the forest

he would climb

up her trunk

and swing

from her branches

and eat

her apples

and they would

play

hide-and-go-seek

and when

he was tired

he would sleep

in her shade

and the boy

loved the tree …

very much

and the tree

was happy

but time went by

and the boy

grew older

and the tree

was often alone …

… then one day

the boy came

to the tree

and the tree said,

‘come, boy,

come and climb

up my trunk

and swing

from my branches

and eat apples

and play in my shade

and be happy’

‘I am too big

to climb and play,’

said the boy,

‘I want to buy things

and have fun

I want some

money

can you give me

some money’

‘I’m sorry,’

said the tree,

‘but I have no

money

I have only

leaves and apples,

take my apples, boy,

and sell them

in the city

then you will have

money

and you will be

happy’

and so

the boy climbed

up the tree

and gathered her apples

and carried them

away

and the tree was

happy

but the boy stayed

away

for a long time …

and the tree was

sad

and then one

day

the boy came

back

and the tree shook

with joy

and she said,

‘come, boy,

climb up my trunk

and swing

from my branches

and be happy’

‘I am too busy

to climb trees,’

said the boy,

‘I want a house

to keep me warm,’

he said,

‘I want a wife

and I want children,

and so I need

a house

can you give me

a house?’

‘I have no house,’

said the tree,

‘the forest

is my house,

but you can cut

off my branches

and build

a house

then you will be

happy’

and so

the boy cut

off her branches

and carried them

away

to build his

house

and the tree was

happy

but the boy stayed

away

for a long time

and when

he came back

the tree was

so happy

she could

hardly speak

‘come, boy,’

she whispered,

‘come and play’

‘I am too old

and sad

to play,’

said the boy,

‘I want a boat

that will take me

far away

from here

can you give me

a boat’

‘cut down my trunk

and make a boat,’

said the tree,

‘then you can

sail away …

and be

happy’

and so

the boy cut down

her trunk

and made a boat

and sailed

away

and the tree was

happy

but not really

and after a long

time

the boy came

back again

‘I am sorry, boy,’

said the tree,

‘but I have nothing

left

to give you –

my apples are

gone’

‘my teeth are too weak

for apples,’ said the boy

‘my branches

are gone,’ said the tree –

‘you cannot swing

on them’

‘I am too old

to swing on branches,’

said the boy

‘my trunk

is gone,’

said the tree,

‘you cannot climb –’

‘I am too tired

to climb,’

said the boy

‘I am sorry,’

sighed the tree,

‘I wish

that I could give you

something …

but I have nothing

left

I am just

an old stump

I am sorry …’

‘I don’t need

very much now,’

said the boy,

‘just a quiet place

to sit and rest

I am very

tired’

‘well,’

said the tree,

straightening herself up

as much as she could,

‘well, an old stump

is good

for sitting and resting

come, boy, sit down …

sit down and rest’

and the boy

did …

and the tree was …

happy”

Adapt

Adapt

with

the windows

down

rolled past

houses

and glimpsed

light pink

roses

climbing

a chain-link

fence

and somehow

they reached me

through the metal

without words

like a bird

in the rain

TL

IF

IF

“if you can

keep your head

when all about you

are losing theirs

and blaming it

on you

if you can

trust yourself

when all men doubt you

but make allowance

for their doubting, too

if you can

wait

and not be tired

by waiting

or being lied about

don’t deal in lies

or being hated

don’t give way to hating

and yet

don’t look too good

nor talk too wise

if you can dream

and not make dreams your master

if you can think

and not make thoughts your aim

if you can meet

with Triumph and Disaster

and treat those two impostors

just the same

if you can bear

to hear the truth you’ve spoken

twisted by knaves

to make a trap for fools

or watch the things

you gave your life to

broken

and stoop

and build ’em up

with worn-out tools

if you can make

one heap of all your winnings

and risk it

on one turn

of pitch-and-toss

and lose

and start again

at your beginnings

and never

breathe a word

about your loss

if you can force

your heart

and nerve

and sinew

to serve your turn

long after they are gone

and so hold on

when there is nothing in you

except the Will which says to them

‘Hold on!’

if you can talk

with crowds

and keep your virtue

or walk with kings

nor lose

the common touch

if neither foes

nor loving friends

can hurt you

if all men count with you

but none too much

if you can fill

the unforgiving minute

with sixty seconds’

worth

of distance run

yours is the earth

and everything

that’s in it

and

which is more

you’ll be a man

my son”

Poet Rudyard Kipling

(i have lived every single syllable of this transforming poem since reciting it in a high school graduation speech in May of 1991 … 35 years ago … jest yesterday)

The Return

and low

after all

the weight of snow

and searing sun

wicked wind

and raging walls of water

lies a speck of sand

at the bottom

of the sea

were it dust

it would float on up

and away

to another land

in time

but circumstantial seas

buried it beneath

the depths of oceans

far and wide

forgotten there

over time

the bygone traveler

just begun

takes a turn round the bend

to sail the stars

in search of life

where it starts

where it ends

stirring up the surface

where the sun and moon

are mirrored

it leaves a wake

the speck of sand

then can take

to travel up

from the depths

through the coral reef

and strands of weed

to break the surface

like a wild whale

racing with the wind

one heads to the blue beyond

the other to the shore

where castles

there

are built by hand

in a magic winter

wonderland

TL