Goodbye so soon, since I believe I’m going to join the November NaNoWriMo (sp?), with a goal of writing 50,000 words during the Thanksgiving month. At least I’ll have a good excuse for not roasting turkey.
WHO DID HE BELONG TO?
He was curled up to himself like a babe,
the remains we found around the bend
beside the brook, as we perambulated
without a care until this old fellow
came into view. Poor, by his looks, and
quite dead and cold. Who did he belong to,
who had his heart?
It’s difficult to work a jigsaw puzzle
without the big picture, and we don’t
get to see that until the end.
FAMILY COAT TREE
it sits there with its three sets
of horns and a mirror, over
the hinged seat for galoshes,
upon four curved legs, its
century-old veneer now
When I think of the dear faces
it has reflected I grow restive.
Are traces of grandma not
in there behind the glass, nor Larry
who died as a child?
Did it not absorb anything it
reflected, not even grandmama who
never had to brush her own hair,
nor the slave who did?
Canes are such fun to use!
You can hobble so much faster,
even use them for swatting,
while my old heart fibrillates
at your touch.
(I reckon you know I’m pulling
your good leg. Did you guess?)
If my calico cat is a male,
Did you know?
THOUGHTS WHILE TRYING TO SLEEP
Are there really any flat earth people left?
How about Holocaust deniers?
Or UFO deniers?
If Free Will exists, as I’m told,
I will my verse to unfold.
Right here and now I direct,
and I WILL that it be perfect.