Tuesday, January 11, 2011


Hello friends.  I am at the Honolulu airport, 76 degrees and a purple-red sunset streaking the skies.  I'm off to Hilo, my destination in an hour.  Meanwhile here's a poem I wrote in transit. Stand by...

Crossing the Pacific, the plane briefly sighs.
On the way, on my way
Leaving the security and/or familiarity of
Cold and snow, Connecticut deep
Friends and family, love and sure things
(CT, the land of steady habits)
Crossing first through Chicago, with its broad shoulders
And mid-west sensibility,
Where kind strangers, doing their jobs, but with a song
Help book me straight through
On this time/place machine
And seated me in an exit seat too
No charge, leg room, a little luxury
(Good on ya mate, as my brother would text)
And I have no remorse, few regrets,
That may follow, though I doubt so.
I am gone long, but not likely forever
I am gone far, but not completely forgotten
I am gone deep, but still in their dreams gently,
So it seems.
And I know, when I land in Hawaii that it will inch me
Nudge me, osmotically
Move me a little closer to some other way
Maybe more carefree
Maybe more easy of spirit
Maybe I will dream and sleep
Listening to the rain
Feeling the sun on the tops of my feet.
I am willing to be enchanted.


  1. Glad you made it! Just spent three hours digging the snow out. Going to rest a bit and sling on the skis. It's long overdue. The beauty of today must parallel that of your new place.....ying and yang.


  2. I think I heard your song of joy as you took off from Chicago.