#Inktober2019: Legend

Close to Her Heart

My grandmother held
her old stories from Poland
beneath her corset

                                 

#Inktober2019: Overgrown

Recipe for Lovers

Tend to those you love

If left alone nettles will

choke out the blossoms 

                                         

#Inktober2019: Ash

Redirect

Ash,  fueled by hate  left

after someone is viewed as less than,

a person who is declared not worthy

Ashes— left after hate has its say, or

rears up —festers, smolders, and fueled

to rise up again under incendiary words and actions

If we say nothing, not wanting to squander

words on those who hate —we share blame.

We need to smoother those ashes,

stomp down on any embers 

and walk a different path. Our fire

must burn with love.

#Inktober2019: Dragon

 The Art of Memory     

             

             Some day you will

             be old enough to start reading

             fairy tales again.

                —C.S.Lewis

To indulge in fantasy remains a delight

for both borders of age.

The young imagine themselves 

as Superheroes—creating scenarios 

to save their world from beasts 

who show up in dreams.

The young give voice to stuffed animals

who listen and offer love.

The old make an art of remembering.

Drawing on memory to find words

to explore neighborhoods, to recall

with hazy accuracy years before

double digits and years after.

Some recall a book, a song, 

the words of an adult. Looking ahead

the time shortens, but standing still

and looking backward the vista is broad.

#Inktober2019: Snow

The Meteorologist as Seer

Get your  milk and bread
 Twenty-five inches of deep snow
 are coming today  

                  

#Inktober2019: Pattern

Our Paradigm

Life, a symphony

of subtle notes and flashy

interludes through our decades

#Inktober2019: Swing

On My Side of the City

How high did you swing?

Did you ever touch a cloud

or leave the neighborhood

or fly beyond concrete sidewalks

and apartment buildings tight

against one another?

Did you ever swing on a rope

hanging on a tree branch

and let go over moving water

to respond to a dare? 

If not we never met.

#inktober2019:Frail

   Fragile & Frail ,Don’t Drop

My mother’s teacup

placed on top of my bookcase 
still holds a fragrance

#Inktober2019: Enchanted

An Enchanted Place

Before the steep ascent up

Old Rag Mountain we walked

amid oak, maple and hickory trees

Then climbed past fields of wild flowers—

columbine, milkweed, nodding onion,

white bloodroot, and those whose 

names I never knew

We scrambled over ragged rocks 

on the Ridge trail— collected

shards of granite, zigzagged

on switchbacks until we arrived

at the  top where boulders smoothed

by time and water basked in the sun

I read some psalms— 

Words of praise 

reverberated in the crisp air, syllables

dispersed over granite formations 

and echoed across the mountains

Holy, Holy, Holy

#Inktober2019:Husky

A Quick Recovery 

    On the High School Debating Team

His voice grew husky—

His argument lost its fire—

He altered his path

#Inktober2019:Build

To Build Again

                            It is not incumbent on us to
                            finish the task, but neither are
                            we free to refrain from
                            beginning it.
                                       Pirkei Avot. 2:16

When a disconnect happens

that appears to be too deep,

hidden beneath layers—

the  past is gone, but

forgiveness remains

You need to approach the abyss

with care—bottom waters 

drag, but forgiveness exists

If the other refuses to hear,

to listen—try again

We build on small steps—

balancing forgiveness and love

with both hands

#Inktober2019:Freeze

Cold Weather Freeze

Winter slips under
The door—around my shoulder
and leaves a cold veil

#Inktober2019:Bait

     Fishing in a Mountain Stream

We made bait with Wonder bread

balls rolled through ground garlic 

and then piled into plastic bags

ready for a morning of fishing—

in a stream running full

Five boys scattered — looking

forward to a perfect fishing spot—

a place to catch Small Mouth Bass,

Sunfish or maybe even Rainbow Trout

I sat on a stream rock

with a pole made of a broken branch

and a fishing line tied to one end,

a garlic ball on a hook at the other end

One of the older boys offered to remove

the hook if any fish bothered to bite

I watched the spots of light on the water,

the way the current moved a twig downstream

and the wavy pattern of fish swimming

I listened to the sound of water

traveling over rocks

and the sound of fish being thrown in a pail

for an evening meal 

#Inktober2019: Mindless

Only Sold Online

     Never in the Store

Pursuit of mindless 

new gadgets leads to hollow

and barren clutter

#Inktober2019 Ring

                                                              

A tree divulges age—

counting each concentric dark

ring as a year. With old age 

her branches soften, mushroom 

spores grasp her trunk, rain

pulls bark away — discarding

it without a replacement

So too my age reveals itself

with a mesh of lines— wrinkles

expose my years. Veins thread

their way up and down my legs, 

reminders of time past. 

Years move along,

dropping reminders along the way.