blue sky   passing clouds

kingfisher's springtime antics

reflects on the pond

turtles bask on fallen logs

redbud blooms twice as lovely 

~

Coling grew up in North Carolina. USA. 

He spent every summer with his grandparents,

And Yenny & Marcus, at the winery north of San Francisco.

When he turned sixteen he drove out and never really returned home.

He went to school, where we met, in S.F.

There is still a little bit of North Carolina in him. 

He wrote this tanka for Professor Eliot's class,

What is it, almost eighteen years ago. 

I can see him, hear him, his long dirty-blonde hair,

Red bandana holding it back.

And, I remember terri, because how can i not?

See, i'm reverting to form   it was an eventful first semester. 

I post this poem of Colin's, with permission,

In honor of Professor Eliot—gentle man. 

A personal note.

I turned eighteen that first semester, in November.

It was also Marci's birthday, same day.

She was older, three or four years, a senior. 

We weren't really close, hung out in different circles,

But she was super-kind,

And the three of us, she, Colin and I

Spent a day wandering through the de Young

And Legion of Honor.

It was one of those carefree days 

That you don't really note at the time, 

But looking back become, has become, indelible.

She is now, Dr. Marci, M.D.

And, btw, terri is now, terri, attny at law.

`