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Sunday, December 29, 2019

Quantum Soup



I do not make resolutions 
in January anymore.
No point, I’d just ignore them,
quickly, that’s for sure.
Instead I pick a word,
one commonly heard,
to remind me what to see,
how to act, who to be.
It started with Gratitude,
which truly improved my attitude.
What followed was Generosity,
reducing my pomposity.
The third year was Compassion,
quite helpful in its fashion.
Last year was merely Empathy,
oh what wonders did I see.
As New Year’s Day draws near,
what will I choose this year?
Peace?
Faith?
Grace?
Repose?
I think no, not this year,
it will be none of those.
Instead I’ll aim for civility,
stability in my increased fragility.
For 2020, it will be
Humility.
That’s my aim, my 2020 plan,
the Universe supports a humble man.

Thursday, December 26, 2019

A New Year Approaches


December 31
is so arbitrary,
yet nostalgia rules.

I’m leaving behind
what does not serve me,
doesn’t fit 2020.

I’m grateful, 2019,
for every door that opened,
for every one that was closed.

I value my mind,
but I am following my heart
in the new year.

When I want more,
I will give thanks for what I have.
It’s a fair price to pay.

Preparing for what’s next,
knowing I am beating against time,
hoping I am ready.

In 2020, as in every year,
only one question matters.
Will one work for peace?

Friday, December 20, 2019

2019

We might not be as swift,
but our marriage remains a gift.
Even as our bodies waiver,
our love remains to savor,
one year more marked in our favor.
Years one through forty-seven
were indeed a bit like heaven.
And a quiet forty-eight 
was slightly more than great.
This year, we had to strive
somewhat, just to survive,
but hey, we’re still alive,
and life is looking nifty
as we approach big fifty,
so we’ll declare it extra fine,
our anniversary number forty-nine.

Sunday, December 8, 2019

Hannah

Hannah Gosselin is a special soul who posts many special photos of nature, accompanied by her own special words. I have never met her, yet I love and appreciate her special self.

Hannah

Ever receptive,
always responsive,
she looks, sees,
she listens, hears,
making herself available,
open to the magnificence
around her,
taking in the incomprehensible
beauty of nature,
making it accessible
for all of us.
I am touched.

Sunday, December 1, 2019

The End of November

The month seems to 
have had wings,
here in America’s Finest City,
where the locals are old, 
the snowbirds are grateful, 
and the poets are all in good form.
A month of happy returns
and thanksgiving, 
of many old friends,
a new few. 
We live mostly for today, 
knowing the gods will laugh 
at foolish plans beyond 
breakfast or lunch.
Winter’s not yet here, 
at least not officially,
but we know all too well
how wise we were to move,
yet how much we miss 
just a few more weeks to 
the midnight kiss at nine p.m..
Yes, winter’s not here, but
don’t tell that to 
our aching legs and
shoulders at dawn. 
That’s our breath we see 
in front of us in the morning,
leading the way to the coffee.
No complaints, though.
There’s much to be learned at this age.
A little loss of sound can be a blessing,
a chance to return to the
self-absorption of youth, even as 
December is a time for connection,
visits, phone calls, letters, cards and
e-mails, in that very descending order 
of intimacy, and it really is too bad,
what e-mail thing has done to
letter writing, ancient and loving art.
Visits require some degree of readiness,
at least a clean bathroom, but
phone calls, especially the random ones,
can find you in your pajamas, 
heck, even on the toilet. 
Cards are okay, when one does not
have time for a letter, but 
letters have more heart, give more time
to the writer to be reflective,
like a poet, 
searching, reaching, looking
for just the right words.
A writer of letters gets to reflect,
to muse a bit about the addressee, to
remember precious moments, to dream of
better moments yet to come, 
maybe even to plan some, and say so.
It is a peaceful activity, letter writing,
perfect for the cocoa and comforter
days of year’s end. 
We’re older now, 
no longer big consumers;
rather, giving stuff away,
the things that have piled up 
in closets and storage units over time,
so Black Friday means nothing, 
Cyber Monday even less. 
We might still go to the parties, 
ooh and aah over trees and menorahs,
eat too much cheese,
drink just the right amount of wine.
We’ll arrive late, leave early,
talk about the coming films,
and wish each other well.
We’ll tiptoe through 
these next few weeks, and
soon, the new year will come
and we’ll make it our peaceful own.
My sweetie, the cats and me.