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~ The math on Twitter's debt :: Daring Fireball
~ Beyond passenger cars and pickups... :: The Conversation
~ Chief Justice John Roberts puts temporary hold on release of Trump’s tax returns to Congress :: CNN
~ Only the GOP Celebrates Political Violence :: The Atlantic

Don Smith Photography

My life is in shambles
I cannot think
of words to write.
I'm on the brink
of losing my way.
I must leave
and go away.
Perhaps for a week,
a month or a day,
I need to move,
I cannot stay.

She rose from the mist
covering the pond.
A whisp of heavy air,
starting long,
rising slowly,
from a Fall breeze.
Chills in the air,
shaking of knees,
afraid was I,
needing to run.
There I stood
rooted, as if a tree,
knowing something
was coming.
Coming for me.

Life is good,
but is it fair?
Do we know,
or even care?

Did I miss my stop,
when the bus passed by?
If I did, I'm sorry to say,
I missed the love
you shared today.

Drain the swamp.
Reclaim the land,
living your life,
stop being so bland.
There are many means,
in this World today,
so pay more attention
and do it your way.

Once lived the troll, Orion,
from out the bridge he peeked,
a figure of forgiveness
to help those who seek.

"What hath thy wrought?"
I would hear Orion say.
"Have you brought the goodness,
we need most, every day?"

There was no reply or movement,
someone would always say.
Now there was indifference
and we will go away.

When the twisted tails of Dragons,
stretched across the jaded skies,
as if comprised of insects
disguised as Fireflies.

Hot bursts of flames
from out the Dragon's mouth,
as it moved from East to West,
fading in the darkening South.

No stars nor moon were sparkling
or shedding any light,
as a night once eerily quiet
was painted red and white.

No more the Sun's reflection,
no more the proud display,
for now, the Golden Dragons
are gone. Now gone away.

Is it love?
Admiration of others,
encountered every day,
recognizes things
of what you might do.
Why can't love
be the way too?

"Stand tall in the saddle",
someone once spoke.
I didn't understand,
thinking it was a joke.
Up on the horse,
a saddled-up mare,
on a cattle drive,
I was now aware.
A freshman in high school,
now on the trail
of moving these cows
to the corral jail.
I was a novice
to this kind of work,
but the horses made
sure, I didn't look like a jerk.

I searched to find
an epiphany about
a late discovery,
using names,
becoming absurd
if you don't
know a word.

Great grandfather's
name was Fred.
He's long gone,
but in his stead,
he named a son,
with the name Fred.

The years came
and years went,
I can't explain
the blessed event,
when Cousin Fred,
was born anew.

He's the eldest,
I am too.
Why write of
things like this?
When no one sings
and there is no remiss.

Whole, the World
will soon be,
if I still have friends
like thee and thee.