Alan Whitehorn: Traveling Slower

As I gaze out upon the large intercity expressway,

I know all too well that I am no longer speeding in the fast route.

I am now in the slow lane.

But at least, I am no longer stopped in the parking lot.

And the old engine is still running,

although I can hear creaking sounds that have never be present before.

I just hope the car body and engine hold up a little further.

I still have a long way I want to go.

Diana Der-Hovanessian: Lilac Sunday

Let us agree to meet
here some winter
when the park

gates are locked,
and the arches thinned
of their vaulting green

to climb the wall,
thaw the icicles
and watch the rain

like flowering
cherry and lilacs
that kissed your hair;

some winter
when the fog is heavy,—
to return to this light.

"Lilac Sunday" by Diana Der-Hovanessian, from The Circle Dancers. © The Sheep Meadow Press, 1996