Archive | April 2017

J & B & M&R

Today we will gather

to bid B adieu

though he will remain

on our minds, hearts

in every day things;

quick silly family stories,

tears as we drive,

dinners he would like,

holidays he will miss,

graduations, weddings, birthdays, breakfast,

big moments, small things,

private moments at home.


God bless my family,

my daughter, my grands.

Help them always remember

the best of him,

their husband, their dad.

May they live fully

without long held sorrow,

May joy, laughter, smiles

shine through their days,

and may they remember

how he loved them,

and they loved him.






on looking out back at my two Adirondack chairs…

There is a famed poet named Billy

who writes lovely poems, some quite silly.

But silly or not,

He gives them much thought.

No word is writ willy-nilly





The sun was such a tease

hanging just below the horizon

like it might decide to not come up this morning.

Regardless of that decision,  the trail brightened the longer I walked,

my hands pulled into my sleeves,

my shoes crunching on iced gravel

following coyote tracks that veered off towards back yards

where Charlotte, Sue’s sweet cockapoo, and four chickens live.

They forecast snow today.  Without clouds?

Prepare for cold and damp.  With these rapidly bluing skies?

That blasted woodpecker annoyingly yaks from atop next door’s tallest willow.

Fat robins pull and pick apart fat worms.

My favorite mourning dove stares me down above the empty feeder,

and North Korea held its largest missile test yet last night.



Each morning this week,

with or without clouds to obscure it,

a huge, burning, orange sun rose in minutes, seconds, nano-seconds;

quickly enough to make you burst into applause on the trail in the open space

much to the startlement of the chickens three houses up from the corner.


Happy the tree with a swing in it!

A wide arching rope with a disc at the end.

The type at which a young kid takes a flying leap,

grabs with one hand, the other flung out like a wing.

The sort that invites loud shrieks and giggles,

pirate yells, or “bombs away,  or a general “AUUUUGGHHH!”

The grass beneath it no longer exists.

The roots of the tree laid bare.

Mom’s good wicker chair from the front porch

is leaning against the trunk, ready to help the smallest flying monkey,

after grabbing the swing and climbing into the seat,

swing back and forth,  head thrown back, eyes closed,

both hands ’round the rope in a death grip.

Even after Mom hollers, “Time to come in!”

the swing swings free in glee.

It waits this morning for not just the sun,

but the son and the daughter and neighbors,

to finish their breakfast, and brush their teeth,

then really start the day flying.


Emil, the demon catt
is well into spring insanity
he wakes up galloping ’round the room
and jumping on the vanity
faster than a rolling “O”
he dashes out the door
then sits outside yowling horribly
to come back in for more
just now I could not find him
we’d just finished up our lunch
doors shut tightly, windows closed
I had not the slightest hunch
just where he might be hiding
plotting a stealth attack
so I could not simply sit, relax,
with him somewhere at my back
I called and whistled for him
smooched and shook the treats
but ’twas as though he disappeared
from bathroom, beds and seats
I must get back to work, I said
as loudly as I could
expecting him to understand
and to be very, very good
I sat down at my work space
adjusted my new IKEA chair
hit the keyboard, sat comfortably back to think,
then felt his mesmeric stare
OKAY! says I, where are you!
he let out no replies
I stood up abruptly, gave a growl,
and saw his golden eyes
half shuddered, yet absolutely, fully aware,
his whiskers slightly quivered
then he slowly lowered his head and hair
behind my computer screen…
to be continued…


Six years they lived next door

with Jack, their magnificent, soft spoken husky,

and Crosby, their loppy eared, amalgamated barker.

Six years they hung shining Christmas balls on the lowest branches of their front ash.

Just last year they saved their three, blooming cherries out back from heavy, wet snows,

about which I was delighted, since those blossoms fill my  windows each Spring.

They fixed the back fence each time Jack chewed through it to visit.

We worked to keep each other’s sidewalks clear of the annual ice dams.

And each and every night, they turned on their bright, annoying porch light.

Every, single night that blessed light lit up my living room and kitchen like day.

For six years.

I covered my windows with dark curtains and thick blinds at first.

For at least three years, I cursed them softly under my breath,

plotted to unscrew the bulb.

I huffed around complaining to myself, growling at my cat.

I learned to shut my bedroom door, eventually,  which blocked the light quite well,

and then I found it actually helpful

when I  found myself wandering ’round the house at midnight.

No need to turn on my own lights.  The rooms were well lit.

So it became less annoying, more a beacon of friendship and safety in the neighborhood.

I came to like it, to depend on it.

It became the norm,

Until three nights ago

when I could not sleep,

and stumbled to the kitchen

in pitch blackness.


and a wee bit frightened.

The light was out.

My rooms were very dark.

All was weirdly quiet.

Was something awry in the neighborhood?

Then, on Tuesday, the sign went up!

They sold their house!

They moved away!

Without a word!

Without a wave, a smile, or snarled farewell.

Jack and Crosby, my furry buddies,

have a new yard to romp and bark in.

Their mom and dad have new rooms to fill,

and no doubt a new light lit on their front porch,

to shine in some new neighbor’s windows;

And I am left to curse the darkness I learned to live without

these last six years.





Snow watered tulips

pushing through winter compost.

Signs of life! So rude.


After Tuesday’s snow –

heavy, wet, breaking branches –

Wednesday’s sun was sweet.



Spam! Spam! Spam for lunch!

If you try it, I have a hunch

you will love it a whole bunch!

You can fry it for some crunch!

You can eat it with pink punch!

Smoke some weed with canned Spam munch!

Tie your hair back with a scrunch,

then fix yourself some Spam for lunch!

Spam! Spam! Spam! Spam!

How I love my Spam for lunch!