Learning from Lucien
(for classmates Ward, Arlene, and Monica)
Not rock, rather - pebbled husk of dying river.
Not fog - in its place, a condensing velvet hush.
Not joy - shadow swoops a golden acre.
"Show, don't tell."
The gift of image
Resonates, is life, persists.
Old shell, tumbled through time.
Worn to sand, settles
And becomes a mountain.
Not shell, well...shucked cob, discarded peel.
Not tumbled, try whittled to a wise core.
Not settles - moans his last.
Word falls, mountain rises.
This poem is written in memory of my mentor, Lucien Stryk (1924-2013)