8.24
blip, he moved. or she.
tiny frog in the maw of
my mower.
his life is in your hands
the voice said. so I move
carefully.
it’s only a lawn, weeds
scruff, things to be taken
down
not something to cost a life.
so I mow the lines carefully
grateful that my life lies
not at the whim
of some monster in the sky
just doing
his lawn.
—————–
8.21
cat soft steps paw down the back
deck risers. an old fluffed cat now,
she has never been an outside
animal. but age provides both
wisdom and courage. why not see
what has not been seen before
why wait for the final dropping of
the gate. step and step. not far
out into the green grass yet further
than gone before. she turns and
gazes up me. calm. new life
beckons and stirs. not done yet.
———————————
8.20
the dog sleeps with his head against
the cellar step door. huffs and the
occasional twitch of a foreleg paw
telling the story of his inner life. a
puppy once again, chasing.
I sleep now with my head propped
two pillows high, the occasional
snork telling of snoozers anonymous
that I knew not of, ‘till my wife said
do something about it.
innocence was what I saw in my
children’s sleep. little faces turned
to the sky as if internally connecting
to grace abounding, their hearts
resounding a heavenly place.
take us away now in all of our dreams
to places that move us and swim
along streams of consciousness
bespeaking our inner selves. in
and out breathings of deep indigo truth.
——————————
8.17
I strive to stay calm as
the boy gets ready to
leave.
years in the making
of being out in the
world
we planned for this
along the way of
course
that he would go to
college and graduate
and leave.
why then does it feel so
like a house hollowing
out
and open days ahead
of empty sounds
abounding.
——————-
8.16
a long days journey into changes
knowledge puffs up but wisdom
builds up. pain of parents left
behind, out, over-the-hill, who
needs ‘ya. bye.
redemption comes with a phone
call text. luv u all. goodnight.
sweet dreams sweet boy, you
have to move on. us too.
——————————–
8.15
I do the walk for me, that’s
what I tell the dog anyway.
the slow walk tonite, feeling
each step, bounce, lurch.
I do the walk to feel my body,
not natural for me, a head
person who steps out and
up but not in joy.
body, mind, spirit all a piece
I know in my head, but disparate
in the doing. nature is there
and I wave at it.
pay attention my head says as
I look up from step upon step
around my mile loop. hmmm
trees, yup, still there.
I do the walk as a penance
for all the years of not doing it
and for proof that I still can,
not gone yet.
and then I come home and sit
and take a pause and get on
with the rest of my life, the
natural parts, like writing this poem.
—————————–
8.10
the tuscan wall attracts me to it.
pictures of family, grammy and
the grumpa of name I never
knew but came from. mom
at age three, brides, rahab,
our marital hat. echoes and tokens
of lives still vibrant in my heart.
we install the decor as if it were
simply background for dinner.
but in fact it is the main course
—————————-
8.9
white tailed hind quarters
disappear into the late dusk
shrubbery
across the street a pale fawn
cocks its rear leg in
statue form.
the dog notices none of it,
or all, large animals being
beyond his ken
but let a squirrel frisk fifty
yards away and he is
upon it
you have to know your
limitations he tells me
with a wag.
————————
8.8
a drowsy eye oozes open,
world still there, sounds
having begun to filter in,
and smells
of coffee brewing from
below, dishes chip chip
clinking out of the washer
onto shelves
life will happen again this
day. brain kicking in even
as the body twitches in
resistance.
this is the day the Lord
hath made. oh my.
—————————
PoemsPerDay 