Raccoons are visiting my place of late.
In nearly 20 years I’ve seen a few,
but never this – a gang of 6 to 8,
that tour the trellis, deck and roof. The view
from here’s a clutch as they investigate –
I snap but only capture 1 or 2.
I’ve noted ‘possum pairs. I’ve seen skunk litters,
but not till now so many ring-tailed critters.
(Ottava Rima)
It’s easy to be fearful when you’re old.
I’ve seen you trip and take two months to mend.
You’re likely to stay in more, and behold
existence through a screen, where headlines bend
the news to terrorize. You feel the cold
more often, and predicted heat waves tend
to frighten you to cancel or delay
the outing you agreed to yesterday.
(Ottava Rima)
Most folks I know are senior orphans now.
The few who have a parent, of my peers,
are caring for diminishment – that’s how
the mind and body operate, as years
approach a century. Their spheres
are shrunk to single rooms, and even we,
their kids, are falling short and nursing fears
as we lose focus, balance, energy.
(Huitain)
I often wondered why Dad chose our mom,
until considering how he was raised.
Four sisters and his mother lacked aplomb
and energy. The only goods they praised
were money and big jewelry that glazed
extremities. Their phobias were vast,
and Dad by Mom was probably amazed,
attracted and diverted by contrast.
(Huitain)
The only friend who reads these posts won’t mind
I’m writing how I’m glad she cancelled lunch.
I’ve traveled, worked and visited. I’m kind
of burned-out interacting. I’ve a hunch
I’ll heal at home in solitude, inclined
to read and rest and stretch and do a crunch
or balance pose, for all the good I seek,
and mention here, “I’ll see you, friend, next week.”
(Ottava Rima)
When I was young I thought I’d bend the world
to satisfy myself and realize dreams.
Arriving at adulthood, I was hurled
beneath the multi-tasking work extremes.
In middle-age I modified my schemes,
for pathways had eroded into dust.
And now I’m old I take time as it seems –
receptive and accepting, I adjust.
(Huitain)
No doubt I’ll eulogize her after death,
but she’s adhering longer than we dreamed.
More tired steadily and short of breath,
reduced to traits about which we’ve long screamed,
instead of growing softer than she seemed
when in her prime, she’s meanly concentrating
the qualities I loathe. She’s unredeemed,
and my dismay continues unabating.
(Huitain)
We looked at quilts and beadwork Saturday.
Although our time included other sights,
the textile work and woman-craft held sway,
and influenced our thinking several nights.
It didn’t make me want to sew the way
it may have pushed her to creative heights,
but it was walking talking time well spent,
which I expect will spur experiment.
(Ottava Rima)
I didn’t sleep enough last night, although
I walked eleven thousand steps before.
For that and time alone, I opted “no,”
when offered wheels to bike the river shore.
I stretched and then I gladly locked the door,
eliminated waste and travel grit,
relaxed and wrote and readied for a tour
to waterfalls, right after this respite.
(Huitain)
Of rabbitbrush we learned when we enjoyed
a 3 day/2 night visit to the real
estate that’s called high desert. It’s employed
by rabbits as a cover more than meal,
and occupies the space that would appeal
to succulents or cactus down below.
With rabbitbrush no tumbleweeds can wheel,
and rabbitbrush is everywhere we go.
(Huitain)
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