Signs of Ma
, , , then on the seventh day,
-walking to the valley with
brother Gene - a silver haired fox
crossed our path - (un-indigenous)
Dare I say, moving through dimensions,
he cocked his head at us
but never altered his gait.
, , , Done now almost with my death duties
- the sudden vacancy started to take hold-
But I did not see you Ma, not in the Irish nun
at your wake, that, upon realizing she
was at the wrong service said,
“Oh BEGORRA, God must a sent me then.”
(I did not correct her redundancy)
Later when the Irish priest hit my car
in San Francisco and laughing he said,
“Oh BEGORRA son, Be careful on your journey ”
I felt your sense of humor, then, Ma, getting it
I thought of the nun too - Realizing
they were you - not just ready for
what lay ahead.
, , ,How would I continue my journey
without your guiding word - rich
yellows, oranges and purples
of a New York fall - you always
had a good sense of timing - Calling home
from the docks is when the falcons began,
looking up, three, circling me, from above.
Then underway on the bridge-wing landed
-With all your resplendent dignity-
your talons golden, great and sharp
clinging to the rail, your head askew.
You would ride with me too far
out to sea - too far for a hawk -
To make it back to shore -
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