And the circus leaves town


The big top coming down
the elephants,
tucked inside their semi trucks
with lions
tigers
and bears,
and the cotton candy machine
that Rick works on
as the semi-pulls away
and teary eyed
the last children
run after the semis
crying for the elephants and the clowns.
But the circus is gone now
to the next town
to the next chance
and
with nothing left to show
but the quiet sound of trash
floating in the breeze.

Children, cakes and fun!


Last night was our annual cub scout pack cake bake. You would think that the concept of baking a cake and then showing it to half your neighborhood wouldn’t bring out the best in people but it does. We had various themes and a largest cake contest. To say the least it was a blast!
 
My sons and I built a ship in dry dock (our monthly theme was ship building). We had a blast over the two nights it took us to build the cake.
 
All in all a wonderful experience!

The ghosts of the past


What demons lurk
around the bend?
Sleep comes hard now
once so easy
simple
child’s play
now harsh
aches and pains
nightmares
memories that
like a dripping faucet will not stop
flowing
a whispered word not heard
a door
silently opening until
silent hinges no more
creak
the settling
of a house
the quiet
alone in a house full of people
the moon
shining down
and only quiet
circling around you
dancing
just out of reach
the memories
of the whisper
you can’t quite hear.

And the rain falls


At night
when the swallows swirl around the gate
the entrance and the exit wrapped into one
swallows diving into the night
a flash
and then nothing
Then you hear the rain
as it falls
each drop
perfectly formed
the resolute perfection of the quiet
and it falls
past the swallows
past the gate
to me
at the foot
edge
end
hat in hand to catch the rain
each drop
perfect
in its dew drop shape
striking my forehead
my cheeks
my eyes
washing the day away
At night
as the swallows fly.

On being an architect


Over the past four years I have been searching for a definition of what a software architect is. Infrastruture and the processes of infrastructure archtiecture are what interest me.
 
I’ve thought about, read about and researched various definitions, processes and even blogs where people included architect in their personal title.
 
I’ve listened to people who "knew the answer." Experts they call themselves. "Software Architecture" is just like "Building Architecture."
 
And from that I’ve realized that there are many answers today becuase nobody really knows what an architect is in the software world.
 
To me the architect is the person who understand the concepts of the solution as well as the requirements of hte business and is able to mix those with a little experience to produce a solution.
 
Architects, again to me, don’t deploy products they build solutions. So an archtiect doesn’t care what the products are, just what the capabilities are that he/she is deploying.
 
A solution represents a much broader view of the problem that is being solved then does a single product. Its why many companies have such a difficult time selling their products. They update their product to represent the "current problem" but don’t offer a solution that allows for flexibility.
 
I think of software architecture as being far different from building architecture. A buiding architect may design a building for a company. They then move on to the next project. They are selcomd asked to build v2 out of the scraps of v1. Which is the life of a software architect.
 
We take the solution that was deployed 10 years ago with y, mix in the new solution and create a world. A great software architecture, unlike a buidling architecture can be self sustaining, almost biologic in the sense that it knows when the technology is old and needs updating.
 
Really to me software architects are more like alchemists. Taking Lead, Iron and other metals and trying to createe gold. Software architects, the new alchemists.

Finding meaning in my closet


cleaning
socks I haven’t worn in five years
shoes that no longer seem in style
and
a notebook
frayed at the edges and
pages torn
loose leaf peices hanging off the edges.
What was this treasure
this lost collection i had found?
each page stained with age
yellow
words written long ago
finding a way back to me
back to now.
Meaning lost in yellowed pages
taking me back to a time
more angry?
more loud?
more willing to risk?
Or
younger?
not aware?
lost?
words that flow like water
but taste like beer
left out of the keg a month
and then poured
into a dirty glass
memories
of long ago
yet
still relavent?
or
lost visions
lost thoughts
lost dreams
yesterday merging with today
and leaving leaves of quiet
reflective thoughts
piled
near a tree
in my closet
near a notebook
and shoes no longer in style.
 
 
 

Of God, the balloon pilot


In the clear blue sky
high above
a single gondola drifts by
no visible balloon
but balast
falling from the sky
as it rising
passes from sight.
The children run
to the balast
expecting candy
but finding sand
and small notes
with directions
and guidance
in an easy to read script
but vague
hard to understand
they run to the next spot
the next balast
seeking
desiring
but again finding only sand
and vague messages.
From the gondola drifting by
with no balloons
only messages.