I have been so in love
With the crunch of autumn’s leaves
That I failed to breathe
Carpets of orange,
Crisp Crimson, and mellow gold,
Sun-dappled delight
On Fall’s mellow eve,
One season wanes, depleted
While nature comforts
Autumn Eve
Category: Poetry
Picture This
When I close my eyes I picture my destination—a village on the banks of the Mississippi.
I see my daughter and imagine the hug I’ve been aching to give her since early July.
My grandkids. I hear their voices calling, “Nana!” and I’m a rock star for a brief moment in time.
The road stretches before me. Miles of interstate and backroads, small towns and cities. A hotel somewhere between here and there.
Two sleeps separate me from my destination. Tomorrow the journey begins. Illinois, here I come.
To Be (Succinct) Or Not To Be (Succinct)
Shakespeare once declared
Brevity the soul of wit;
All the world’s a stage
Succinct Hemingway
Manuscripts pared to bare bones
Never words to waste
Miss Jane Austin, though,
Played with epic paragraphs
Bursting at the seams
Advice for writers
Can we get our stories straight?
Be succinct, methinks.
The Pessimistic Optimist
The pessimistic optimist believes
That the glass is half full
Of some noxious liquid.
That the grass is always greener
But the fertilizer
Is toxic
That the shiny silver lining
Is mostly worthless strands of tinsel
This, friend, is a day in the life of someone
Who counts her chickens
Before the eggs have even
Been laid.
Wanton
Who can say they’ve never been
Desperate, wanton, in need of
Something they cannot explain?
I admire that person, the one who
Turns a blind eye, a deaf ear to
Temptation, to greed and lust and
All the baser human instincts.
Keep up the exemplary work.
Keeping Busy
The worst times are those
When I’m caught off guard
As I’m drifting into sleep
Or the first moments upon waking
When my primitive brain latches onto
An ugly hunger that needs slaking,
Baking ideas like malformed cookies
Question mark-shaped dough
And I force myself to move
In action there is solace;
If I’m busy, I don’t think
I Worried
That the Chicago airport would confound him.
That we wouldn’t make it into the virtual queue for a Star Wars ride at Disney’s Hollywood Studios.
I worried he’d think our family suite at the Art of Animation would be too childish, or that hanging out with his Nana wouldn’t be cool.
I worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up with my 18-year-old grandson for all the fun.
I worried about lots of stuff, but I forgot to worry about cancer.
Weird how I always seem to worry about the wrong things.
I’ve Been Thinking
Driving, I thought
Of life and death
How some folks live more
In only a handful of years
Than some who barely scratch
Life’s surface after decade upon decade
Of blood coursing through veins
A heart beating, lungs expanding,
Going through the motions
But that’s not living.
That’s marking time.
Collateral Damage
My house is a mess
Cat’s toys scattered everywhere
Writer’s paradise
True story.
Peace, people.
The Christmas Spirit
The stockings aren’t hung
Because a new cat lives here
The tree goes untrimmed
Because a new cat lives here
Baby Jesus isn’t in the manger
Because a new cat lives here
Do you think Santa will find us?
No. Because a new cat lives here.
Praying for Eyebrowz 