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Two Old Poems

Circa 1981

Awake
Lying awake
in a dark room
remembering.
Being in a snowstorm
surrounded, besieged
by glinting stars
all unique. Yet
by some alchemy
they melt and become
a swirling form.
A ghost
haunting and haunted.
I close my eyes.
Sometimes nothing
is more comforting

One step,

              then another
each taken with less

    certainty.

Arms outstretched,
feeling the balance
              of shifting ground
beneath the feet.
No movement, but
      very           careful
              small               steps.
Surely Peter felt like this
walking on the water.


Living Room	Hall	Kitchen	Library	Front Door