Here are the two poems I read today on the Zoom meeting with @40 other poets (all quite talented) hosted by Glenn Lyvers of Prolific Press. 

9/11

In his luggage, that did not complete the soar, 

was a beautiful memory of having once flown to Holland.

A more pleasant memory than the one 

which he will never bring home.

Today, taverns have turned into sacred places of prayer.

The sky is silent but for the sound of weeping clouds.

Poets use terms like ‘gone to eternal rest’ 

and 'found the big sleep.’

I also know this poet’s song 

will now never be completely sung. 

I wonder what we will call this day

in one hundred years, 

and if its potency will be diminished.

And, in all the days that follow this Tuesday,

I will hear his voice in my head, 

that voice all others have forgotten.

I’ll open the door and suddenly 

be out on windy Kansas plains,

sighting all the other lonely people. 

I’ll say this moment must not rule me 

and sometimes that will be the truth.

Time

In the dark of night he crept,

deft and quick,

this Robin Hood.

He must've been

a thief of time,

because I never saw him.

But one day when I looked

in the mirror,

I realized he’d been there many times.

After all these years,

I grasped how much

of my youth he had taken.

The robber of so many of my minutes. 

Yet, he left to me a pile of memories, 

of faces and conversations.

A pile growing larger each year, 

so he does give back to the poor.