One Small Thing

 

Not for me, the grand concepts.

I mean, I know that poverty

is cyclical or situational,

but that guy on the corner?

He just wants a sandwich,

maybe a beer. 

Not for me, the great concerns.

I mean, I know that orphans exist,

and child care’s too costly,

but that girl on the swing?

She just needs a push,

maybe a hug.

Not for me, the larger issues.

I mean, I know the snowcap is melting,

but insomnia won’t help.

All I can do is turn off some lamps,

light one little candle, and hope others do too, 

that the sum of the candles will light up the globe,

maybe my life.

Thanksgiving 2023

 

This is a good day

for some random acts

of joyful beneficence.

When I wish to find

reasons for gratitude in life,

it’s not too hard.

What the heck.

I woke up. I am breathing.

I might as well chose to love.

Rethinking everything

about my life, so far...

…yup, it’s pretty good.

So come on in.

The table is brimming, catered 

by Spirit. Savor each bite.

Now, if only it was possible 

for Brussels sprouts To smell

as good as bacon…..

Transition

 

Not Just A Phase

I’ve many teachers,

most of them were unlikely,

still open for more.

Today I recall

those whose lives touched mine. They are

the faces of God.

When one was scheduled

to transition long ago,

now is amazing.

What good is living

if in the rest of my days

I don’t live for good.

I won’t try much to

do big things. Many little

acts of good will do. 

I’ll live with intent.

This life is no accident.

My life begets life. 

Weather

 

We were young, then,

living above the weather,

only a few thousand feet up,

looking down on the Santa Rosa plain.

It was our first mortgaged home,

three loans and a garden.

We needed that garden,

the food it provided,

fresh, dried, canned, frozen,

whatever it took.

Didn’t even have a real shovel,

only a spade,

with a lot of rocky adobe to turn,

but it was worth it,

losing weight, 

getting into farm boy shape,

appreciating both sun and rain,

no time to complain,

not picking the corn until

the water was boiling.

It was my third garden,

the first with my mom after WWII,

the second with my friend Tim,

small but bountiful, and

we learned a lot.

Getting close to 80 now, 

not much rain here,

but a lot of sun.

Don’t know if I could 

do it all again,

but I’d like to try.

Autumn Hues

 Summer’s blooms fading,

fall flowers still aborning.

Seedlings need water.

Red flowers open,

pomegranates in waiting.

We might make sun tea.

Pink roses whisper.

Bougainvillas scream color.

Pastels still enchant.

Epi’s bloomed briefly,

cactus flowers much the same.

I must call my Friends.

Backyard

 The trees are filled with ravens, 

the fence topped with mockingbirds,

the eaves nested by doves.

hummingbirds of assorted hues

fight over the sugar water,

an occasional hawk seeks dinner.

The lizards are plentiful this year,

seem to be changing, evolving, 

growing larger in some cases,

maybe half a dozen different variations.

Seemingly unafraid, likely because

our adopted killer cat is no longer alive.

Some of the succulents and cacti

are showing new sides to us,

tall shoots, colorful flowers,

more pups than in past years,

all of it probably from the wet year,

the one with the fizzled tropical storm.

Sunset

 Here Where I Find Calm

Dear Friends,

in my fourth act,

before my final sunset,

I find myself arriving at 

a gentle, lovely thought,

thinking of you, me, us.

I don’t expect nuance from myself, 

just once in a while,it pops out

most often in a poem, 

frequently inspired by others,

their writing or speaking.

Someone like you.

There is a strong breeze at times,

blows through the hole in me,

formed by my own unmet 

dreams and expectations,

not so when I think of you.

As busy as I know you to be,

I’ll only take a minute,

just to tell you to a certainty

that the world I know is

better because you’re in it.

Now and Then

 This week the prompt from our leader, Walt at PoeticBloomings2 was taken from the Beetles’

new (and final) single, “Now and Then”….

Mas or No Mas? 

I’m nearing eighty

and he wants more.

Why? When? How then?

What would our friend Walt do?

He’d write and write and write,

and then write some more,

and they’d all be great,

and they’d all be interesting,

and we’d all read them,

and we’d all have ink envy…again.

I too tell lots of stories, so

that’s no problem, and

it’s far too late now to worry about

too much exposure.

Ultimately, there is only one choice.

I wrote then and I write now

because I have no choice.

I write for the pure expression of life,

the joys and fears and hopes,

surely about love.

I write, inspired by the writing of others,

by the natural world in my backyard,

by the speechless days at the ocean,

by the sun and the moon,

their rising and setting,

even moved by the sounds of fire trucks afar.

As age has flattened me,

as humility has claimed me,

I now write more about Spirit,

about oneness, about transition.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring.

I’m simply sure I will write about it then.

Every Say is Veterans Day

 Being a part of the community of veterans, especially those veterans of foreign wars, is both an honor and a duty, with a sacred obligation to past, current and future generations of our country’s warriors and protectors. I do not take it lightly. Veterans’ missions did not end with their active military service. They remain steadfast in their comradeship with one another, even while at home, awaiting further orders. Many of them have dealt with and continue to deal with illness and injuries which changed them and their place in the world. For some, the pain has not ended. For others, as many as twenty each day, the agony was too great to continue in their current bodies, in their current life. Those of us who have found ways to live in peace, in Spirit’s hands, must be a shining example, a lamp of hope, a light at the end of the tunnel for those who struggle. It is the least we can do. We all know what war costs, whether we were in battle or not. We all know that our memories linger and, unless we continue with courage and find a way to change our thinking about the past, the pain will persist. The nightmares will continue. The burden which our friends and families must share will grow. We joined the military for different reasons, some were drafted, many volunteered. After boot camp, however, we all learned that we had become part of a new family, one bigger than our previous, solitary lives. We had become larger than before. We mattered, and others depended upon us. It is no different now, even for those of us who long ago qualified for our AARP cards. I have privately lived with pain and turmoil, found some answers, still seek others. I do not, however, regret even one day of it. Not anymore. In my middle years, regret, remorse, shame, sadness, sleeplessness and anger ruled the day. Today, the fog has lifted. While some of the pain lingers, I have no doubt nor confusion about the special gifts which military service afforded me. Whether I feel that I have it in me or not, I am now duty bound to ensure that all veterans are appreciated, all wounded heroes are cared for, all invisible injuries are brought into the light of day, so that treatment can be provided. The value which I take from camaraderie with my brothers and sisters does not have a number. It is incalculable. I hope to plant the seeds of appreciation, honor, encouragement and sustenance for the rest of my life. It’s a lot to do, so I’d best get with it. I know that I am not alone in these goals. Many institutions, associations and individuals are doing so much more than I will ever accomplish, yet even though I sometimes feel like a single raindrop in the ocean, I will continue to find the drive to be of help, to do my part. My brothers and sisters, the veterans, deserve nothing less.

Veteran Life

Being the only veteran in a room

is like speaking a foreign language,

or thinking in one, as you seek

another who lets you feel understood.

Most of the veterans I know

don’t talk too much about it,

especially those who went to war,

but I have learned that

the more you reveal your story,

speak or write of your experience,

the more you heal.

There’s a weight in keeping it too close,

but when one wants to talk about it,

what does one do?

Perhaps, find another veteran,

knowing we are all comrades,

better because we served,

ones who answered the call,

be it in war or peace.

Maybe attend a discussion group,

one led by one with experience.

In some cases, go one on one

with a professional, 

someone who’s heard it all.

Most of us don’t look 

like we need this, but

most of us also don’t look like

those recruitment posters,

“The few, the proud…”,

but we feel like it,

even amid painful recollections.

We know war is fought by kids,

too young to drink,

too young to vote,

not too young to die.

They’re trained, schooled in battle,

but there’s no sure way to prepare them

for what it’s like the first time 

one fires on another person,

and there’s no good way to prepare them

for when they return to civilian-hood,

taking the long journey back,

hearing bumper sticker thank you’s,

well meant but awkward to hear.

There are manuals for how to create soldiers,

but few directions for creating veterans,

why the VA, Legion, DAV, VFW matter,

the places where the bond can be recaptured,

difficult memories shared.

I’m grateful I survived to have earned the right

to tell my brothers and sisters that I get them,

to acknowledge that they all experienced

Dangerous Duty.

They trained for it, lived it, survived it,

and relive, remember or try to forget it.

Today I welcome them home,

tell them, whether I have met them or not,

I appreciate, honor and love them.

Falling further

 

Fun O’Clock

So tell me what you’ll do now 

with your wonderful life,

you know it well,

the perfect one with all the wow.

So tell me what you’ll do soon,

with friends and family

you know so well,

stay home or rocket to the moon?

So tell me what you’ll next improve

with body, mind, spirit,

you know the spell,

keep moving, smiling, in the groove.

So tell me what’s due at fun o’clock,

with happiness, pleasure, joy,

you know how to tell,

you’re my friends and you really rock.

Fall back

 

Fall O’Clock

The too-warm mornings

of summer are gone now,

autumn still sleeps a bit,

not quite awake,

hit the snooze button on the clock,

not quite ready for her big hurrah.

We are well past the solstice,

but she’s still young,

and I am satisfied to

comfortably capture bits

of her breezy brilliance,

enlivened by the simple

pleasure of it all,

commonplace as it may seem,

grateful for this good day.