Hand outstretched, waiting
One orange leaf wafting down
Crisp cascade follows
Spread wide your fine nets
Fingers splayed, arms extended
Raking the glory
Try catching autumn
Crunch and crackle, red and gold
Store Fall if you can
Tag: haiku
Gutsy Potion
Don’t be skittish, dear
Brewing potions takes some guts
Among other things
(“The Witches Brew” by Adrian Higgins)
Tongue of toad, fileted
Eyes of newt, plucked one by one
Rattle of snake, sliced
(“Witch’s Brew” by Angus McBride)
Stir in spider eggs
Black widow for best results
Simmer, chant, enjoy.
A Penny for My Thoughts?
Never in my life
Have pennies been offered
In trade for my thoughts
Should it happen now
I would most likely decline
Given inflation
Except, google says
The cost of thoughts have
Dropped to all-time lows
Little known fact, the more thoughts that are shared publicly the cheaper they become. Thoughts were 1¢ back in 1522 and reached an all time high of 79¢ in 1895. Once the patent for radio was gotten in 1896 thought value began to decline due to the growth of the newly patented invention. By the time of the first televisions, thoughts were only 54¢. After television, the value began to drop exponentially. Nowadays, with the invention of the internet, an individual thought is only worth about .000005¢.
All of these numbers are accounting for inflation.
Wine Talking
Last night I imbibed
A Cabernet Sauvignon
Mellow vibes accrued
Sweet drifting on sips
This languid summer evening
Deep in these red cups
Oh, deepest vintage
Layered tastes on eager tongue
Rich flavors ensued
Midnight Thoughts
From the border lands
We feel the children weeping
Lord, please hear their cries
Agents cold as ICE
Breaking families apart
Following orders
What would Jesus do?
We don’t have to speculate
Lord, hear our prayer
Matthew 19:14 King James Version (KJV)
14 But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.
When the Heart Hurts
Knife-like, the blade wounds
Slicing through civility
Severing all ties
One moment shatters
False securities wiped bare
All hope stripped away
When this old heart hurts
The pain seems unbearable
The burden, unfair
Not His Children
Bang the drum slowly
Follow the horse drawn carriage
Wearing dark colors
This mask of warm tears
Covering a mother’s face
Her child lost to war
This fake president
How easily he threatens
Others’ children’s lives
A Drop in the Bucket
A Drop in the Bucket
by Leslie Noyes
One shard’s sharp clatter
Finally hitting bottom
Way down in the well
No splash forthcoming
Water dried up years ago
Does no good to cry
Keep shoveling dirt
Keep plowing those narrow rows
Keep harvesting naught
I grew up in the Texas panhandle, one of the areas hardest hit by the Dust Bowl. Although that was before my time, I heard many a tale from my grandparents about the dark days when the dirt blew non-stop, filling every nook and cranny and clogging lungs.
Several years ago, a book club I belonged to in Illinois, read the book, The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan. It’s a rather long book filled with firsthand accounts of the Dust Bowl Days, and while I don’t usually indulge in nonfiction, I found this book fascinating.
When the book club members met to discuss The Worst Hard Time I was excited to share my perspectives. One woman, a New Yorker transplanted to Illinois, couldn’t believe that people still live in the Texas and Oklahoma panhandles. I assured her that not only did people still live there, they thrived.
I highly recommend the book. If you read it, let me know what you think.
Peace, people.
Things Remembered
The things she recalled
His eyes, kind smile, gentle touch,
But never his voice
With scant reminder
She remembered his cologne
Subtle sandalwood
She’d give anything
To hear him speak one more time
Though words might wound her
The Cat in Question
The cat in question,
Snuggling, purring on my lap,
She finds her warm place
Never questions life,
Not a care in her safe world
Relaxed, yet still poised
The cat in question
A lady of advanced age
My boon companion
Praying for Eyebrowz 