Pushkin It’s Time, My Friend

It's time, my friend, it's time! The peace is craved by hearts...  
Days flow after days -- each hour departs
A bit of life -- and both, you and I,
Plan a long life, but could abruptly die.

The world hasn't happiness, but there is freedom, peace.
And long have I daydreamed the life of bliss --
And long have planned, a tired slave, the flight
To the removed abode of labor and delight.  
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The meadow, A poem by James Tucci

The meadow

I walked down the road

Up ahead was a fence

When I saw that fence it made me wonder

What lay behind it

It was a low fence

I reached it and lifted my legs over it

Beyond it was a meadow

With wild yellow and pale red flowers

Popping out of the tall grass that swayed in the breeze

The meadow had some standing water

So I stopped and gazed out

To where the meadow crossed into the sky

At that moment I knew that life was endless

I would never know all the paths or all the answers

But I knew I was glad to have climbed over that fence

James Tucci

Thanksgiving Day

Thursday, November 27, 2014

Palm Bay Yacht Club, Miami, Florida

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