For Nia

She was a lover of butterflies,
And a bright one happened by
The gathering at her grave.
Borne by an easy wind that warm spring day,
It seemed to hesitate.
But on the next full breeze,
It took flight
Heading for open sky.

Waterville Memory

Alone on a mountaintop ledge
With a chill wind on my face,
I look to my left down the precipice,
Balancing fitfully on my skis.
If I turn them downhill, the rush will begin.
I will be free, either master of this mountain or slave,
Cutting turns in ankle-deep powder, alone.

Do it! I think and turn,
In control, my skis grabbing, flexing,
Pellets of snow buffeting me,
Down, down, shooting down fast, but in control
Until at last I reach bottom
And look back up that steep slope traveled,
My grin wide, a challenge met
The thrill of living consumes me.

For Jake

Jake raced like a meteor
Ever toward the light
But one day disease struck
And he struggled to stay in flight.

On a fine June morning
As Jake fought to stand,
We knew his arc was complete
All he needed was our hand.

Jake said his goodbyes
With bright eyes and wagging tail
And lay down beside us to face his end
Knowing in his way
That he loved and was loved
And that that was everything.