Little Owl

Little owl
What do you think of us?
Strange big faces cooing close
The mere sight of you
Compels us to make idiots of ourselves
In ancient days, in ancient caves
Ancestral idiots made faces at ancestral babes
This is why we've all survived, little owl
This is why we're here, little black-eyed soul
Upon your shoulders does history unroll

Someone's Bubbie

Ancestors can vanish in the confusion of history

Elders

Some days it is good to search their faces

And see your features there

Some days it is good to search their stories

And hear your story there

Or the shadow of a curve of a feature

Or the whisper of the beginning of a story

Or the story you wish you had

I had a grandmother once

I heard I did, long ago

Lost in the confusion of history

Did she tie a scarf under her chin, like this?

Did her mind drift in dreams, like mine?

Old ladies dream the longest dreams

Life is longer than it seems