why halloween

why horror movies

when we have as reality

neighbor killing neighbor

children living their entire lives

in refugee camps

ruling groups with the avowed

purpose of destroying enemy

nation, party, religion, grouping

hate gives no struggle for creativity

no building against chaos, entropy

no joy or even entertainment

why do we mock reality

by playing at horror

when horror is playing for keeps

with so many lives and deaths

Write a Title Here

Write your description here.

Write a Title Here

Write your description here.

Include more text here to close out the blog, or just delete this box.

lizard with deformed tail

lizard with long tail

forked and curled

into small, opposing semicircles

basking in the sun

does he worry about

his deformity?

is he accepted by other lizards?

is he a social outcast

in his world of individualists?

or is he merely warmed by the sun

and watching to catch any near-

flying insects with his agile tongue?

supercilious

‘we’ were so certain when i was small

that formula was superior to breast milk

without recognizing individual needs

of specific infants

that asphalt would make better roads

more traffic, more commerce

without realizing the runoff would pollute streams

or the dark surface would contribute to global warming

that ‘greed is good’ was local only

without imagining that the quest for

more and yet more did little good

even for the greedy one accumulating

ah, if we could approach our being

with a bit of humility, of awareness

of so much greater than ourselves

because we may be late in finally

accepting our arrogance is killing us

joy of sharing

laughing with friends always

renews my perspective

puts petty annoyances

into the background noise

where they belong

yesterday’s day at the coast

sharing delicious potluck

and word games and talk

among ourselves did that for me

how i love the joy of sharing

on reading The Life of John Donne

Izaak Walton looked at sainthood

with eyes and concepts so different

from my own

assuming ‘ownership’ of wives

and the ‘good fight’ in terms

of racking up points – not in this

world – but primarily in the next

so, for all Walton’s humor and enthusiasm, i read of his friend’s sacrifices and trials

lamenting the loss of Donne’s striking

words rather than taking joy

in marvel of his pain

arched path of stars

clear night sky

stars seen, not through mist

or haze or light pollution

but sharp, distinct

welcome as childhood friends

when the Milky Way

was near solid path

arching above me

cedar lace

 cedar lace-filtered sunbeam

delicate pattern of filigreed shadow

on my palm as i capture

master artist’s light creation

before it reaches the forest floor

            Van Duzer corridor

i am

 that you do not see me

does not make me invisible

achy angry

achy long enough begets angry

angry yields snappish

pondering after requires apology

ah, to not have had the achy

in the first place

grateful to be informed

not that long ago

there was no telecommunication

mail was days or weeks or years

between send and receive

anxious moments stretched into

months without knowing

this morning’s text message

eased my heart with news

my grandson is back in this country

having lost weight but standing

on his own two feet

i am grateful to be so informed

needle pliers

fir and pine, evergreen and ever gossips

wiggle and bend together in their stands

needles clack and whisper as they knit

tales of the adventures of their seedlings

whose cones were carried afar

by birds and friendly winds

and horror stories

of the foolishness of man

the way of all

singing in another celebration

of life tomorrow, another friend

gone ‘the way of all flesh’

another life that reminds me

of the finite quality of my own

the concept of time seems local

to me, but within my un-vast

world, i had a beginning

and will have an end

perhaps then i will understand

what ‘i’ have been

generations hug

little red-headed boy fighting tears

hobbling grandmother comforts

“Do you know what I like most?”

“Uh-uh,” he sniffles

“Freckles. Isn’t that what they

were teasing you about?”

slow smile in response

“Do you know what I like most?”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Wrinkles.”

answer before acting, please

how do I have the right to correct

to maim, to slaughter those who see not

the ‘truth‘ as I see and know it

and to lay blame at the feet

of the almighty who clearly commanded

‘Thou shalt not kill’

blue-purple

mauve bruising to thunderhead

as gold edges blue-purple clouds

sunset promise of anguish

to be faced in lone darkness

anger to be mellowed by night’s quiet

battle for peace

courage to be summoned to face

a rather-not reality and fears

i will admit to sadness and strip

delusion of control

“i” remain, depleted though i am

i will give what i can and keep

what i need to

dawn will come again with warmth

to swell the sight and smell of purple plums

painted ladies

pedicures with painted toes

and massage of aching

calves and arches

giggling between chairs

of mom and two daughters

sharing grief with delight

reminding each other of the joy

that lives even amid the sorrow   

gray-blue greeting

gray-blue morning

misted deep sky obscuring stars

chill fingers outside the covers

signs of autumn not coming

            but here

pity the child unsure

pity the child unsure of his own worth

whose defense is bluff, bluster, bullying

the child grows – tall if not up

still fearful without compassion

or even acknowledgement of others

still wielding bluff and bullying

but having outgrown the pity others

were willing to afford him as a child

and so it became

i love the story of children, delighted

by orange, pink, blue, purple wings

flurrying around them

parents called them ‘flutter bys’

the little ones, too excited to listen

closely, spied a yellow enchantment

and called out, ‘butter flies!’

and so it was

color preparation

autumn in the air

filtering summer’s brilliant

whites and yellows to warm

rather than sizzle-hot

as though through burnt orange lens

readying us for greens to re-dress

in red, umber, beige, muted gold

buttery browns, even blue

the colors of a fire in the hearth

in preparation for winter