Be blunt: rip the Band-Aid off the truth.
Share: it makes your ownership complete.
And laugh: some days refined, some days uncouth.
Bad news? Scream ugly once, then turn the page,
You are the writer at this theater, not the show.
No bragging rights unless you scar with age;
Drive off the cliff, if what you want’s below.
During the blink of light, the gasp of breath, that’s life,
Some brothers lock their doors, seat belts secured.
Back from the edge, to stay unhurt, to just survive,
They never climb the railing, jump the curb.
But some things aren’t revealed at a distance.
Fledgling egrets or nursing otter pups,
Cliffside terns or parading pelicans,
Fluttering monarchs or rhythmic waves of kelp.
Each day’s unique and sunrise is the proof.
One buffets the beach, like storms attack a boat.
Another fades to gray, with sun aloof.
Then, clouds and sea in stained glass seem to float.
Pete, the image of you that is going to last:
You let each and every morning have its day.
You take the good from all you see go past.
You love, and are loved, more than words can say.
aired on: KZSC radio 6-8-2010