Magazine Posts

The sound of an early evening breeze,
pushing and pulling branches and leaves.
Is an eerie sound; it will not appease
until the rattle of tree limbs are at ease.

Do you recall the words,
"Snap, crackle and Pop?"
The bowl of Rice Crispies,
laying in milk to sop.

We wont be together with our family
on this upcoming Thanksgiving
because of published guidelines.
I don't like it but I understand
and we will comply in an effort to
diminish exposure.
My wife, however, cannot grasp why,
it must be when others are
with their family. She has advanced
Dementia. What you or I can
justify why, she cannot use logic
or reason. It's sad for her
and painful to me, when I see
her anguish about not seeing
her granddaughter.

A thought.
A frown.
A brainless
Old Clown,
On his way;
Going down.

My life will be over.
I won't even pretend,
When the time comes
And I can't pick up my pen.
Can I have a small prayer
and a hearty Amen?
If you do that
I'll always be your friend.

I feel tree roots
beneath my toes,
as I stumble on those,
trying not to fall,
for if I do,
it will be hard
to get up,
for me not for you.

Never a moment,
never a try,
what in the World
is wrong with this guy?
There is no humility,
there is no sigh,
compassion isn't present,
it matters not why,
as his time in office
is drawing nigh.

The Crow hopped
and cawed,
did a short
bouncy dance,
on the grass.
He did prance,
looking for worms;
his last chance.

A shiver
A pain
Inside my head,
Has brought forth
A feeling of dread.

The path down the hillside,
through the slippery shale,
was taken carefully then,
but with little avail,
for my feet began sliding
down the rockiest trail.
Brace your feet in the stone,
don't let them sail,
as it can be dangerous
to avail a trail with shale.

No matter the season.
No matter the time,
I'll always remember you
A good friend of mine.

I ponder the day of recent past
of voting out a President, so crass,
who still hangs on, in his defeat.
His term will be over; he'll retreat.