Sunday, December 31, 2017



Winter is NOT an old man.
He is a toddler 
who stomps around in a bitter mood.
He is a three-year-old throwing a tantrum
after being scolded for misbehaving.
He pitches balls of frigid air that slap faces
and leave cheeks red and stinging.
His fists flail in revolt.
We dodge his repeated blows.
His feet kick up piles of snow
making a mess everywhere.
When you want him to move along,
he flings himself to the ground,
howling and refusing to budge,
as snow swirls about 
and piles up around him.

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Winter Waiting

Winter Waiting

Chilled, brisk air 
chases him down the sidewalk 
and follows behind him 
through the door.
He shuts it out quickly.
He shakes bits of snow from his coat
which melt into little puddles 
upon hitting the floor.

He smells chili 
simmering on the stove
and the homemade bread she's baking.
Her welcoming hug and smile
makes him grateful
for a quiet evening at home
 in the making.

Wrapped in an afghan,
watching the flickering fire,
and drinking tea,
they spend their time
reading books, laughing, 
listening to music,
watching TV. 

It's the time of winter waiting.
Waiting for the snow to start.
Waiting for the snow to stop.
Waiting for the snow to melt.

It's the time of winter waiting.
Waiting for the soup to boil.
Waiting for the bread to bake.
Waiting for the new year.
Waiting to see... what cards will be dealt.

The young at heart 
wait for Christmas,
wondering what Santa will bring.
Older folks with aching bones
work jigsaw puzzles 
and wait for spring.

Thursday, November 16, 2017



So the pressure is on. 
It's time to make the Thanksgiving meal.
It must be festive, traditional,
delicious, ideal.

The groceries must be bought.
Recipes gathered up.
The table properly set,
with each plate and cup.

But what if the turkey
refuses to thaw?
What if the oven breaks,
and that bird is still raw?

The stuffing is soggy.
The gravy gets spilled.
The potatoes are lumpy.
No plates are filled.

Take a deep breath
and say a prayer.
Be thankful for blessings;
and for family gathered there.

And when you realize
just how lucky you are,
you'll see it  doesn't matter
if dinner is below par.

Call up the pizza shop
on speed dial,
and dinner will arrive
in a little while.

Don't worry about the food.
Don't stand on ceremony.
Rejoice in your blessings,
and make room for pepperoni!

Even though, at first, 
it can be hard to see.
Remember, remember,
there's always plan B.

*   *  *   *  *

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Wednesday, November 8, 2017



Fall is the time when the trees become
like your eccentric Great-Aunt Irene.
One day: conservative, quiet, sedate,
dressed in a dignified, dark green.

The next: crazy, wild, inhibitions gone,
parading around, making a scene.
Flamboyant in yellow, orange, and red.
Life's too short to always wear green.

Thursday, September 7, 2017

I'll Be Back!

Hello readers. I have been selected for jury duty for the next two months. This experience is going to require a great deal of time. As a result, I am taking a temporary blog break. I hope you will come back again when I return in November.

Sunday, August 6, 2017

We Are All Miracles

We Are All Miracles

Bits of buttery, pale yellow pollen
powder the inside of a pink lily.
Few will even notice 
except, perhaps, the bees and me.

God stirs up a sunset with his own recipe.
Ingredients?...He uses only three!
Air, sunlight, and wisps of clouds
become pink and blue swirling art
displayed in the sky for everyone to see.

We are nothing but insignificant grains of sand
on an infinite beach next to the infinite sea.
Why were we deemed necessary
in this grand scheme of things?
Why were we chosen to live, to love,
to breathe, and to be?

I'm not sure why, but for whatever reason, 
we are part of the plan.
Our lives intertwine with each creature, each flower, each tree.
We are all miracles made up of music, color, and mystery.
We are magic, math, beauty, and symmetry.
We are all miracles.

Sunday, July 16, 2017



A time to take a break
from the weight
of everything
that is dragging you down.
A chance to see things
you've never seen.
An opportunity
to go somewhere new;
to get out of town.

Leave your footprints behind
as your calling card
in the soft, wet sand
of the beach.
Within a day,
they'll wash away,
and you'll be gone,
once again out of reach.

Yes, for a while, 
it is fun to forget your frustrations
while you frolic 
in the ebb and flow of sea foam,
but the best thing ever about vacation, 
has always been 
remembering how nice it is 
to return home.