For Platt, my brother.

Groundhog Day, a day without reason.

We were unprepared for the pain of this last Leave-taking.

I can’t be quiet when all around me are making noise.

If I should die before I wake, Show me the paths I love to take.

Unlike so many Thanksgivings before, a meal my family won’t share, emotion is felt so much more.

Outside a turkey pecks at my lawn. Inside I peck at my keyboard

Autumn’s back, courting dreams.

No Fireworks, no Fair, no Illumination. No house too full with each generation.

Sand
Clean white sand
warm in summer
rolling wet
hot bodies
fresh from swimming
in the Sound
Frozen white
salted  crunch
underfoot in winter
wind blasting
eye stinging
unforgiving bits of it
Sand obsessed Arthur
the wave caressed
pitch of dune
shaped by fetch
and depth
Rooted in beachgrass tendrils
entrapped in the
timber groins we built
along this stretch of beach
formed the fine and
delicate line
that kept