The Nature of Work

A purpose and a resilience you seek,
A legacy that's both strong and not weak.
Though wages are earned in a standard affair,
Its meaning runs deeper than money or fare.

My time I will freely and eagerly give,
A peace and a truth help my spirit to live.
A resource so precious, demanding and hard,
It mends all the parts that my daily work marred.

Some jobs I have held were both taxing and stark,
They left a deep strain, a significant mark.
I think of the patients with spirits so brave,
Whose palliative journeys led straight to the grave.

To stand in a room where the moments are few,
As one nears the crossing to something brand new.
This skill is not taught, but a profound calling's claim,
To be the kind human who whispers their name.

Duality Within Fragility En Vivo

 Tenderly, life is a delicate breath, 

Caught in a dance between living and death. 

Every bloom's beauty is born with a sigh, Fading to dust as the summer goes by.

Yet in this fleeting, this fragile parade, 

Strength is revealed as the shadows are made. 

Where there is sorrow, a new song takes flight, 

Grief turns to wisdom, and darkness to light.

Here in the breaking, the mending is found, 

Life's truest purpose is all around. 

Loss is a seed for a different form, 

Born from the sorrow and fed by the storm.

Manhattan: A Walk

 From Inwood's crest, a new-forged path I tread, Where Marble Hill and Hudson Heights watch down, A different journey, by new music led.

Through Washington Heights, and into Harlem's town, With echoes of old rhythms in the air, From Hamilton Heights, a new-found, royal crown.

The soul of Manhattanville is waiting there, And Morningside a quiet wisdom yields, A spirit free from every mundane care.

I walk through Central Park's expansive fields, Beside the Upper West Side's graceful art, And Upper East Side's quiet wealth she shields.

Then Bloomingdale and Lenox Hill impart A sense of order, where the city bends, And Yorkville's memories play a gentle part.

The pulsing heart of Lincoln Square extends, While Midtown rises, a colossal gleam, Where every dream begins and every ends.

Through Chelsea, bathed in a celestial stream, And Meatpacking, where old and new collide, A modern, vibrant, ever-changing dream.

The Highline floats, a secret, verdant tide, Through Hudson Yards, and where the tourists roam, In Hell's Kitchen, where secrets can reside.

I feel the pulse of Kips Bay, bringing home A sense of belonging, while the past I trace, In Tudor City, rising like a dome.

Then Flatiron stands, with dignified disgrace, While Union Square a fervent passion finds, A central meeting-point, a sacred space.

In Greenwich Village, freedom now unbinds, And SoHo and NoHo, with style and grace, The Bowery a thousand memories reminds.

A different light, a different time and place, In Little Italy and NoLita's gleam, The Lower East Side's spirit I embrace.

To Chinatown, a vivid, waking dream, And Tribeca, with its subtle, quiet arts, Across the city, like a winding stream.

The Financial District, playing different parts, Then Civic Center, with its sturdy grace, A symphony of beating, hurried hearts.

To Battery Park, at a more hurried pace, The journey's end, and peace upon me fell, I finish, finding my appointed place.

I walked the streets from northern height to hell, From Governors Island's view and Randall's Hill, And every moment was a sacred spell.

I saw the past and future standing still, The World Trade Center, and its solemn grace, The city's soul, that never can be killed.

The Stuyvesant and Gramercy embrace, The quiet order of a measured street, A different city, in a different space.

The spirit of the journey is complete, Through Hudson Square, and old West Village's way, A sweet reward for tired, weary feet.

I saw it all, from Turtle Bay to Kips Bay, From Fort George, to the final, western light, The city's soul, that changes day by day.

I walked through Midtown, in the fading light, The Garment District, and the Theater's gleam, Then Spanish Harlem, and its glorious sight.

I felt the spirit of this endless stream, From Rose Hill's quiet, to the heart of Rome, I saw the city, and its sacred dream.

Perfect Start from Great Finish

 The coffee machine hums its old refrain,

A comfort in the morning light, and then the pain

Of words I've practiced, quiet, on my tongue,

"It's time for something new," the hopeful song I've sung.

I see their faces, a sudden, softened hue,

A shared goodbye in eyes of brown and blue.

The easy laughter falters, then falls still,

A silent moment on this ordinary hill.

They speak of projects we had yet to start,

Of inside jokes that feel now set apart.

They say my name and linger on the sound,

As if the leaving pulls up sacred ground.

Their hands reach out, a pat upon my back,

A gentle sadness, like a coming lack.

"We'll miss you here," they say with heavy grace,

And "It won't be the same," around this place.

But even as the sorrow hangs so near,

A different feeling conquers every fear.

A new horizon calls, a vibrant, burning gleam,

The final chapter of a waking dream.

I hug them tight, each one, and promise more,

To stay in touch, to knock upon their door.

And though I'm leaving, with a heavy heart,

I know this new beginning is the perfect start.

For Cancer: I Hate You

 The hospital hall, a sterile, hollow hum,

Where time is measured by the falling crumbs

Of shared last meals, and whispers soft and low,

The words we needed but could never know.

We watched you shrink, the vibrant light you were,

As shadows grew and held you in their blur.

The fierce, bright laughter, now a fragile sigh,

A quiet echo underneath the sky.

We held your hand, a map of worn-out years,

And tried to soothe away the rising fears.

We promised stories, futures, moments bright,

To pull you from the slow and creeping night.

But some wars end with silence, not with shouts,

And love becomes a harbor in our doubts.

We close our eyes and see your youthful face,

Before the thief had stolen all your grace.

Now every memory is stained with gray,

The ache of you who had to go away.

A silent phone, a vacant chair you'd keep,

A love so deep it makes the mountains weep.

We live our lives and try to find a way

To honor you in every passing day.

But a part of us is gone, and nothing's quite the same,

Since cancer came and whispered out your name.

Sonnet of Goodbyes

 This last appointment, with its gentle grace,

The charts are closed, the final words are said.

I see the health restored upon each face,

The future bright where once was only dread.

The trust you placed in me, a sacred bond,

I carry with me, sealed within my heart.

And know that when I'm gone and far beyond,

Your care will never falter or depart.

I leave you now with hands both kind and true,

A capable and steady, skillful team.

They'll guide you safely on this journey through,

And make your health their ever-present theme.

So go on now, with strength and peace of mind,

And leave the worries of the past behind.

A Journey Forward

 The boat is tied, a sturdy rope, 

To shores of comfort, a gentle slope. 

The sun is warm, the harbor still, 

A peaceful ache, a whispered thrill. 

My friends all wave, a steady line, 

"Go chase the stars, the sky is thine." 

Their voices strong, a hopeful sound, 

"You'll find your footing on new ground."

But I can feel the current tug, 

A nervous knot, a heavy shrug. 

The water's deep, the sky so wide, 

I've never sailed without a guide. 

The familiar scent of earth and pine, 

A sweet reminder of what's mine. 

The easy laugh, the well-known face, 

A gentle and a slowing pace.

Yet something calls beyond the mist, 

A future only I have kissed. 

A distant gleam, a faint new song, 

A place where I have always belonged. 

I take a breath, I loose the line,

 And turn my back on what was mine. 

The sail unfurls, the journey starts, 

With hopeful yet nervous hearts.

The Weight of Ivy

 The screen glows bright, 

a single word appears, 

And with it, silence, calming all my fears. 

A dream I'd held, a hope both grand and old, 

Now etched in pixels, stories to unfold.

The weight of books, the midnight's whispered plea, 

The burning fire of curiosity. 

The trembling hands, the pounding of the heart, 

All led to this, a brand new, brilliant start.

A world of stone and ivy, green and deep, 

A legacy of promises to keep. 

The long, hard climb, the struggle and the strife, 

Just one small page in a new book of life.

Rapid Response

 

The Call

The pager screams, a sudden, jarring sound, 

Shattering the quiet, where peace was found. 

A rapid response, the message stark and clear, 

Another life hangs, battling with fear.

The Gathering

From different floors, they gather in a sprint, 

The nurse, the doctor, with purpose in their print. 

Respiratory therapist, swift and keen, 

Pharmacist too, a well-oiled machine. 

No wasted motion, no time to delay, 

Each step determined, come what may.

The Scene

Into the room, where silence holds its breath, 

A patient fading, on the edge of death. 

Monitors beeping, a frantic, urgent plea, 

The team descends, a force for life to be. 

Eyes quickly scanning, assessing the scene, 

A silent language, sharp and ever keen.

The Work

"Airway secure!" a voice cuts through the air, 

"IV access!" beyond all earthly care. 

Medications drawn, with precision and speed, 

A dance of knowledge, planting hope's own seed. 

Compressions strong, a rhythm for the heart, 

Each skilled hand playing a crucial, vital part. 

No hesitation, just focus, sharp and deep, 

While fragile life, a silent vigil, keep.

The Turn

Slowly, gently, a flicker takes its hold, 

A pulse returning, a story to unfold. 

The breathing steadies, the color starts to rise, 

A fragile victory, reflected in their eyes. 

The tension eases, a collective, soft release, 

A life pulled back, from the brink of final peace.

The Aftermath

The room grows quiet, the crisis now is past, 

The team disperses, their efforts holding fast. 

They walk away, to duties yet untold, 

But in their hearts, a story bravely sold. 

For in that moment, when shadows loomed so wide, 

A rapid response, where life and hope abide.

Hopeful Beginings

 A fresh page turns, a story starts anew, 

With every face, a hopeful, open view. 

No longer strangers, just a little shy, 

Beneath the vast and ever-watching sky.

A whispered greeting, then a gentle smile, 

Connections forming, lasting for a while. 

Or maybe more, a bond both deep and true, 

A friendship budding, vibrant, fresh, and new.

For in each eye, a world yet to explore, 

New laughter waiting, joys held in store. 

So let us meet, with spirits light and free, 

And hopeful hearts, for what our friends will be.

Park Squirrel Summit

(from perspective of young chocolate lab Murphy) 

Today I saw a squirrel, I SWEAR.

He gave me this defiant stare.
So I leapt up, like six whole feet,
But Mom just yawned and took a seat.

She always says, “Don’t waste your pace.”
But squirrels, Mom. They mock your face.
I chase them just to prove I can,
I’m strong, I’m fast; basically man.

Then Mom said, “Murphy, leash still on.”
And yeah, I realized squirrel was gone.
I wagged and barked, no squirrel fight,
But next time, squirrel. It’s on. Alright?