Numbers

To be more or maybe less,
there is an option

neither to mingle
nor disappear like in nonexistence

stitch count, splat points, pace on a track,
number of cardinals in a winter’s scene

loved by dreamers
there are those who believe

Productivity, ambition, pride
sing their praises

of course, resting on one’s laurels
is a way to the future

Do they matter? Do they lead to happiness?
A digit that moves from a 5 to a 6?

Numbers.  As I see it, define.

++++++++++

Inspired by ‘Shoe’ by O at the Edges

Just a Note, Not

Not birthday,
Not holiday.
Not because you had to.

Just a Note.

From the heart
These words came
and are received.

One of my favorite
things in life
are words

Simple words, crafted with care
meaningful to the receiver
So thoughtful from the giver

Just a note

not to me
best gift
from one to another.

This note came with an added treat . . .

The title of the photo says it all; in-law family members included

Childhood Dream

“When I grow up
I will have my own house.”
Her inner voice would repeat
“My own place, yes
complete with a pet.”
Her childhood dream.

Closing the door to what ailed her,
She wished away the years
to
adulthood
She plotted, “Now I’ll sneak around. . .
A little cape may do.”

Marriage, children, work.
Common living,
The little house served the family well.
The family thrived,
The home owner, however
her dream, not quite fulfilled.

Years of banter
as it was no longer a decision
for one
She struggled.  “Maybe, I’ll sneak around
to find a dwelling
of satisfaction.”

Oh, boy
a quiet little block
quaint and serine
A lovely neighborhood
it might just work
They all agreed.

Long settled in their home
they are getting older now
which is presenting new questions
about their abode
This dream of childhood is returning
to the center of their attention.

When does a person own a house
When does a house ‘own’ its owner?
They have no answers right now.
But she is coming to realize
the dream is not about the house
rather the memories that are formed inside.

The Winter of Wind (and no snow)

Howling in the morning
blowing in the afternoon
Winter of blustery wind
I will remember you

I listen for the rhythm of breathing
as it informs a runner’s endurance
unable to grasp its contents
as Mother Nature has taken over

Her noise becomes the norm
tree tops dancing, daring to snap
unsuspecting and
interrupting the family’s every move

Howling in the morning
blowing in the afternoon
Winter of blustery wind
I will remember you

The dog lifts her head,
tense body on alert
jumps at what is enveloping her
to catch the invisible play

Layers are a must
double here and vested there
Don’t forget to zip up
Frost bite is ever near

You say you cannot sleep?
When will the blasts of cold air stop?
At least it is not snowing
dumping two feet at the stair.

Howling in the morning
blowing in the afternoon
Winter of blustery wind
I will remember you

Pebble in the Water

Pebble tossed in the water does not move
yet its ripples reach wide and far

Sometimes decisions are difficult to make
While life continues in its fury.

So, the yarn stash remains still
Pattern overload in full throttle

Blog shows lifeless
While ideas are abundant

Running clothes neatly folded
Rather odd for ‘an athlete’ in training

The pebble in the water needs another toss
Who knows where it might land.

It Takes Time

It is supposed to snow in December
a Winter Wonderland to unfold
With winds expecting to blow
The air meaning to be chilly.

It is expected to honor the calendar
The decorations to go up
Lights to beautify and celebrate
cleaning and preparations to be well underway
During a holiday season.

It is Nature’s way geese flying South
Mallards wading softly
Cardinals singing
Patterns we identify in our neighborhood.

The heart has a rhythm
The couple has a plan
The knitted fabric supposing to grow.
It is what has come to us as natural.

But, when the world presents itself
with surprises,
Modern Earth planning differently,
and we are witness to things out of our control

The life beat interrupts
And, one has to cope with
a new reality

It takes time.

Dog’s Day During Allergy Season

snore snore snore

lick lick lick lick
scratch, sniff, sneeze, slurp slurp slurp

pant pant pant
pant pant

clammer, clink, clunk, clammer, clink, clunk

pound pound pound

lick lick lick lick
scratch, sniff, sneeze, slurp slurp slurp

crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch
lap lap lap lap lap

jump run jump run

run

run

run

pee

lick lick lick lick
scratch, sniff, sneeze, slurp slurp slurp

run

run

run

lick lick lick lick
scratch, sniff, sneeze, slurp slurp slurp

jump
sleepy
sleepy
sneeze

snore snore snore . . .

Toads

IMG_0056
I took this picture while recently gardening and recalled Robert’s lovely moth poem as seen on his blog, O at the Edges, I couldn’t help but play around a little with some words and ideas.

Small toads mingle

among the weeds.
I see their

movement as I bend
down, hands toiling
remembering the joy

of childhood play.
It is humid
again this morning.


On Kindness

Gift bouquet for her, found on desk,

brought home and admired by
him.

No card, but giver identified.   Flowers lovingly placed in a vase.
A thank you for an act of kindness.  He

positions, re-positions tulips in different rooms as the day wanes
carefully carrying and turning the bouquet into the

sunlight.

She said it was for putting others first.  He
changes the water for freshness, admiring commentary with every turn.

Signs of appreciation bloom,
beautifies a home in many ways.