Sunny Day Decisions


The black cat moves slowly
creeping through the Spring grass
too low to leave even a shadow
in the bright sun
testing the patience and training
of the watching dog
who eyes the thin stray
through the invisible fence
and calculates the cost to reward
of taking a jolt
to a wild game of chase and catch

Day 21


Threatening Weather Patterns


When my grandmother heard the word “stormy”
she would grab her vial of holy water and begin
bathing the house and everyone she loved
in the sacred
rushing us all down to the cellar
to hide out the tempest in safety

We viewed my grandma’s behavior
as extreme, somewhat foolish
yet understandable
when she was a child, she’d lived
through a tornado
that destroyed her home town
so she always exercised tremendous caution
in the face of any bad weather

Attempting to survive a vicious
climate full of political storms of late
I’ve come to appreciate
my grandma’s approach
when I hear “Stormy” I now, too
want to run and find a secure
and isolated place to hide
wait out this horrid weather
and emerge only when clearer skies
and ideals return.

Day 20

A Beautiful, Ordinary Day


Grass was cut, four loads of laundry washed,
folded and tucked away, the dog was walked,
bills paid, errands run, three pharmacies phoned,
rugs vacuumed, Deebot dismantled and cleaned
and reassembled but still stubbornly suction-free,
workout completed, dinner cooked,
kitchen tidied, and children chatted up.

No illnesses or injuries and trips
to the emergency room, no awful news,
no meltdowns, no car trouble, no impossible
gauntlet of a schedule to try and maneuver,
no wasted time in circular phone menus,
no unpleasant encounters, no regrettable
food or fashion choices made, no puppy
accidents to clean up, no doctor’s
appointments or lab work drawn,
not one single thing was broken
– physically or emotionally.

Day 19

3 Pounds


Three pounds on the wall
followed by a seven second
count of silence
then five quick
quieter raps
was the way the neighbor
conveyed displeasure

She’d pull up a playlist
turn her speaker on
and start to dance
try to lose herself and
dislodge the rhino
living on her shoulders
as she willowed and spun

Then the pounding
would start always
the same series of thumps
from the person
she’d didn’t know
on the other side
of a shared wall

Day after day
the practiced steps
played on
her seeking melody
the other demanding

Day 17

the cost of dreams


he added cash
to the office pool
every week
eighteen years
of lottery tickets
$2 a play
to fund his daydreams

if he didn’t play
he’d never win
which would make
all those hours
invested in deciding
on the perfect size of boat to purchase
the right number of cars
and motorcycles to own
if he’d stay in town
and buy a huge house
or move somewhere warmer
or do both
depending on his cut of the pot
if he’d keep or divorce his wife
once money gave him more
if he’d start up that brewery
that he and his best friend
had drafted in their imaginations
in exacting detail
all the research into the viability
of a hair transplant
and the list he’d made
and remade
of which friends or relatives
he’d drop
or drop some cash on

seem ridiculous

Day 16

At The Edge


Her feet were scorched by the sand. She was never sure
which was worse, struggling awkwardly across
the capricious surface in her sandals or braving
the burn of bared soles in exchange for more agreeable
footing. When she finally reached the wet hard-pack,
where waves left trails of foam, vacant shells, and clumps
of seaweed, she would not have been surprised
to see steam rise as her toes met the ocean edge.

If every struggle garnered such a reward —
the hypnotic, soothing rush and roar,
the restorative chill shared by plumbless depths,
the perspective offered by unbroken horizon,
she’d consider the lumbering, painful journey
more than a fair price.

Day 15