A little E.R. poem

I spent a little time in the Emergency Room at St. Vincent’s this morning. They found some pneumonia and I’m at home with good company (Broadus) and antibiotics. It turns out my ER Doc, Jamie Gagan, is a practicing artist disguised in a white coat. Here is a link to some of her work.

For what it’s worth here is a little poem I wrote on my phone as I lay on my back in my sick bed in my little cubicle. Thinking about… I don’t know, just thinking, making stuff up.

Every breath is a moment in time
a breath of yours is a breath of mine
Under the hill and far away
the children come the children play
Dusk brings a weekend of music and dreaming
Night is the home to which we are winging
Most awaken with the coming of dawn
And some remain at the fountain of song.

Here is a picture of some flowers Broadus brought me when I returned home. His eye was drawn to the identical yellows in the two different flowers and he made me a present.

Not Hiroshi’s hands, but a kid’s refined hands already doing interesting work. He is just beginning his artistic journey. These are the hands of a 6’2″ fifteen year old finishing his first year at the New Mexico School for the Arts here in Santa Fe.

And here is a picture of the acequia running at the border of our back yard, and why I can call our place waterfront property. If it were not for this occasional storm-driven acequia flow creating a dense green swath through the city I would feel much less at home here in our High Desert setting.