Crumbs

Large crumbs fall from my plate all day long:
a trip downtown to bring her the potassium she forgot to take with breakfast,
four hours at my mother-in-law's, typing a letter,
a traffic jam on Central Park West
but when, at the end of my day, together we walk through the front door,
I find that what is left on my plate is yet sweet substance,
undiminished.

Minnewaska, Rte. 44/55, 11/15/2009

Driving down the mountain road, we exit the fog for a moment,

and the world looks like it's been polished with glass cleaner.

Below us, across the valley, the lower peaks protrude through a billowing sea of clouds --

islands of Avalon in

"The Gunks".

Moved as I am by this image, I want to paint it,

with

e p i c s t r o k e s

and

profound poetics;

then,

a still breath

and I see,

my intervention is unnecessary;

this perfect poem

has always been.