by Ernie McCray

You live long enough
you see a lot of things,
both good and bad
and in-between
in a lifetime
and I find myself
from time to time
remembering things I’ve seen
over my more than
three-quarters of a century
of being alive and breathing,

by Ernie McCray

I just put down
a wonderful read
titled
“How We Can Live”
which was written to give
young people,|
our children,
a few loving
principles to abide by
during these times.

The book’s ideas
come from
“Black Lives Matter’s”
efforts to encourage society
to change its ways,

by Ernie McCray

Had so much fun
the other day
with my offspring
at a nice café,
with one brief
moment
when I had to
wipe a couple
of tears away,
as I shared a story
about one of my two
children who passed away

by Ernie McCray

Woke up this morning
after a nice sleep
last night
and turned on the news
to a scene
that had me
brimming with delight,
the incredibly beautiful sight
of Brittney Griner
boarding a flight,

by Ernie McCray

I was just thinking
about Blair and Kimberly,
two people very dear to me,
thinking how
unbelievable it is
that it’s been
some 50 years
since we met
when I was the principal
at John Muir Alternative School
and they were among a population
of students

by Ernie McCray

Looking at my
seven-year-old granddaughter
Marley’s drawing
of the smiling faces
of her family,
her mom,
her dad,
and her grandma and me
and her brother and her
and Whiskey and Baby,
cats of long standing
in the family,
well, the portrait
soothes me,
like a breath
of needed fresh air,

by Ernie McCray

The devastation and human pain
Hurricane Ian
has left in its wake,
is so depressing
and disheartening
especially since we’re to blame
for its overwhelming intensity,
as we’ve essentially
turned our backs
to more life sustaining sources of energy
like the wind and the sun,
insisting on feeding Mother Nature
fossil-fuel-fed
greenhouse gas emissions

by Ernie McCray

Ron DeSantis,
the governor of the
state of Florida,
has recently been referred to,
because of something he
put some Venezuelans through,
as a “prankster,”
but I see him for what he is,
a gangster,
a human trafficker,
a pimp in disguise

by Ernie McCray

My mind wanders to my first home,
in Tucson,
the home in which
I spent the first twelve years of my life,
a duplex adobe apartment
I’m recollecting
through sounds,
the sounds of my granddaddy and I
harmonizing gospel songs,|
or the sounds of Arthur Godfrey
plunking a Ukulele on the radio
before I headed off to school,