A lawn your greatest joy.

You never liked the great outdoors

Except by window scene.

My father took me into trees;

A cabin, as a boy,

Started my poetic quest

To keep our planet green.

Together, though apart,

You grew me up, a man

Moorish by design and yet

Scotch-Irish in Ăˆlan.


The reception at the wedding

You danced, more or less.

The pace was slow, you were upheld

(embraced) walkerless.

Sedate as Cinderella

At a later ball,

Watched by the assembly,

Godmother to all.

Consuelo: A Mother Ode


So gradual the phase into

Old age: a door, a hall,

An address at Encino Place,

A view five stories tall.

You've entered every year and

Exited a sager self;

Now you need a knife to reach

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