Customary June

Customary June –
twenty-four degrees between
their valley our bay

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Of Late

We’re seeing Mom at least three times a week
of late. We seem adjusted to the new
routine. Except it changes. Symptoms peak
and some subside. Acute and chronic flip.
Another hospital, a new technique –
but overall her system’s in decline.
We’re not expecting much. Our tears don’t leak
to mourn a life so long and loving too.
No pain or fearfulness are what we seek.

(Magic 9)

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It’s Flying Time Again

The real estate is sold. The plague abates.
It feels like time to take on other tasks.
A visit’s overdue – my clan awaits –
and though they’re still requiring the masks
on planes, this week I’ll be selecting dates
to fly, responding to beloved asks.
It’s 18 months since I’ve embraced their forms;
I’ll venture soon to travel through new norms.

(Ottava Rima)

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Back Twinge

My lower back is bothersome today.
It’s acting fragile. It wants gentle use.
The pill I swallowed didn’t take away
the symptom, and recall did not occur
until I walked a bit and felt it say
I almost tripped a day ago. No fall
befell – avoiding that, I stepped astray,
and now I understand my own abuse.
I need to heed this body, and obey.

(Magic 9)

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In Praise of a Good Avocado

By transit home today, I’m feeling irked.
It’s taking too much time and drags a mood
already low, a spirit overworked,
to heavy slog and whine. My attitude
is tentative. I’m hungry. I need food
for mouth and mind and anything but grief.
Arriving with an itch for solitude,
I take in avocado with relief.

(Huitain)

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She Fell Again

She fell again, and so she has to stay
downstairs, although for home she’s filled with yen.
They planned to help her move today, but hey:
she fell again.

She doesn’t bless and never says amen.
We haven’t known our mom to kneel or pray.
But she complains a lot, and whines for when

the docs and staff give moving their OK.
She says she won’t approach herself till then,
but she mis-gauged the seat and found dismay:
she fell again.

(Roundel)

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Rock Garden

Inhabiting this cottage 14 years,
I haven’t changed its footprint, outer walls
or roofline, but the rest of it appears
improved since I established residence.
The latest demolition (new frontiers)
removes bamboo and ivy to expose
a heap of lava rock, a pipe that rears
above the fence. We saw until it falls,
and start six succulents, like volunteers.

(Magic 9)

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Closing Day

Expecting sale proceeds mid-week, I found
the transfer happened half a day before
the estimate. Now liquid funds abound,
but I don’t have big purchases in mind,
and I should bury assets in the ground
(or mattress or financial firm account)
to cover an emergency that’s bound
to happen soon or sometime else, for sure.
Old worry ebbs today, as coins compound.

(Magic 9)

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New Masking

I used to hold my mask when out alone.
I donned it when I saw, at 30 feet
or so, a stranger entering my zone,
but noted that the other had complete
mask on, no matter who was on the street.
My neighbors thought more barrier preferred,
while I made other sense of fact and word.

Of late the rules are loosening. We’re told
we don’t need masks when we’re alone outside.
I tote a mask to wear where goods are sold,
on public transit, or when crowds abide,
but mostly I can be identified.
My neighbors, though, re-mask at 30 feet,
as if new rules are wrong or incomplete.

(Rhyme Royal)

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How Dry is the Valley

Our luck was easy traffic, gentle breeze,
and soft blue heavens shot with cotton clouds.
But when we passed the fields that held few trees,
the parch of desiccation lay like shrouds
on thirsty dirt that isn’t worth a plow
this year, with drought and dire threat around,
and odds of fire blanketing dry ground.

(Rhyme Royal)

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