No More Wisdoms

Posted on November 9, 2024 by sputterpub

We set the date a month ago. And since,
I’ve thought about what’s coming now and then.
It took the surgeon seconds to convince
me of necessity to once again
relieve me of two molars I don’t need –
one loose and one with pockets carved beneath.
Tomorrow is the day we both agreed
I’d sit sedated while he takes the teeth.

So far in aging it has been my luck
to only rot in mouth precociously.
I pull my card again, say what the fuck,
with gratitude that’s all that’s pulled from me,
appreciating I’ve no graver ills,
as well as the prescription for some pills.

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FOMO

Posted on November 8, 2024 by sputterpub

When I began providing grandkid care
(2 days a week), before the plague arrived,
the parents left for work all day, and there
in playful creativity we thrived.
Our moods in sync, our attitudes agreed.
I grew more close to him than I had done
with mine when they were small and knobby-kneed.
At home or out, awake or not, was fun.

Conditions altered when his sibling came.
The virus moved the parents’ work inside.
They almost micro-managed, and the same
discovery and freedom paled. They tried
to join and modify, in parts, our day,
as if themselves were hankering to play.

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Home Sky

Posted on November 7, 2024 by sputterpub

I don’t own acres and I pay a price
to live here, but I chose deliberately
location where the weather’s ever nice,
among green hills and sweet topography.
I picked it cause it’s where I want to be,
for more than brief vacations. To my eye,
near home there’s always goods for me to see,
by water, garden, underneath our sky.

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A Future Trip

Posted on November 6, 2024 by sputterpub

Auditioning we neither of us were,
but 14 days in close proximity
made space for ups and downers to occur
which we together weathered pleasantly.
Assisting her to manage her device,
allowing me to vent a gentle nudge,
agreeing when to rest or drink was nice,
and no one was inclined to flail or judge.

We’ve traveled well before, but years ago.
We’re older now and single and aware
how much we value friendship, as we grow
in confidence. Congenial is fair
description for this summary to use.
In fact we’re organizing next year’s cruise.

Posted in Aging, Personality, Poetry, Transit | Tagged | Leave a comment

The Heat is On

Posted on November 5, 2024 by sputterpub

I waited till October 23rd
to turn the fire on, addressing chill.
The furnace early used to seem absurd;
I always did without its warmth until
November. But the climate’s getting ill,
and older I don’t weather cold for sure.
Surrendering to change, adjusting will,
my fire blazes pathways to explore.

Posted in Home, Poetry, Weather | Tagged | Leave a comment

All Sweets Day

Posted on November 4, 2024 by sputterpub

At loose ends on a Friday close to 6,
without a task ahead and feeling well,
I have the yen to pen again, affix
a nib to paper, let the blue ink flow.
Without a pressing subject (nothing sticks
in mind or begs to make a cursive mark),
I’ll just commemorate there were no tricks
from kids, and treats amassed are looking swell.
Of candy caught, I’m eying cups and Twix.

Posted in Family, Holidays, Poetry, Writing | Tagged | Leave a comment

Far Out

Posted on November 3, 2024 by sputterpub

She must have meant her look to be extreme;
those lashes perched like brushes on her eyes.
I watched them give her trouble, with a seam
of glue apparent. It was no surprise
they bothered her – with nails of lengthy size,
she picked with care and lightly stroked an end.
Her fidgeting defeated style’s guise;
she may have found the limit to the trend.

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Second Person

Posted on November 2, 2024 by sputterpub

I screened a dream vignette the other night,
a nondescript adventure, and a face
I never saw before. Without delight
or deep intrigue we shared a brief embrace
before I woke, in some familiar place.
I rose a little hungry for more view,
receptive and adjusted to the pace,
aware we called each other “you” and “you.”

Posted in Love, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Fridays at 6

Posted on November 1, 2024 by sputterpub

There’s quiet satisfaction that I feel
as soon as they come running through the door.
Their energy is boundless, coursing, real,
and I sit back, receiving hugs and more.
High-pitched their voices greet me with a peal,
for they are nearly 8 and almost 4.
And though they’ll swamp me with their energy,
I’m sure there’s nowhere else I care to be.

Posted in Aging, Family, Love, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Toward Home

Posted on October 31, 2024 by sputterpub

When I return I’ll get to be alone.
The only hum will come from bugs. I’ll burn
some time on streaming and my telephone,
when I return.

For solitude I’ve had the time to yearn.
Companion comments have devolved to drone;
the unintended resting-face is stern.

The break’s been good and ideas have been sown.
I liked to sleep atop the ocean’s churn.
But two days hence sweet comfort with be known,
when I return.

Posted in Home, Personality, Poetry, Transit | Tagged | Leave a comment