Sonnet for Alan

Alone, adrift, run hard aground in May

Amidst friends’ beachfront wedding leisure,

Hammer-blows of fetch-fueled waves, salt spray

Stung unhealed wounds of unfathomed measure.

Midday, a second shadow joined me there

To cheer my futile clash against the sea.

Well-made from warmth and kindness, Southern fare,

The earth’s good salt, he taught astronomy.

As one star-set sparked millions more to light,

The ocean sighed, and I agreed, beguiled.

And turning toward him since that radiant night

His kisses blazed a trail from cheek to smile.

Of all gifts borne by ocean tides to buoy,

The best was brought to me as Alan’s joy.

Chicago: Spring, with lake fog

Watching the weather from our 36th-floor window was always fascinating. There were amazing views of supercells in summer, lake-effect snow forming towards Indiana in the winter, and winter waves crashing along the shore in winter. Sometimes a great fog bank would roll in, and one could easily imagine being above the clouds in an aircraft.

Chicago: Summer, with chimney swallows

A view of the South Side along the lakefront from a 36th floor apartment window. Swallows lived in the chimney of a defunct incinerator nearby, and would come out to eat the newly-hatched insects. There was a prairie falcon who waited on the apartment roof to swoop down on the swallows in turn.