Retail zen

 

Repair, 

rewear, 

retool, 

recycle, 

reemploy, 

refresh, 

repurpose, 

reprocess, 

reuse.

Relax.

And then some

 

2022 and Then Some

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 close,

even when one wants to talk about it.

So what does one do?

Perhaps, find another veteran,

one who answered the call,

be it in war or peace,

knowing we are all comrades,

better because we served.

Most of us don’t look like

those recruitment posters,

“The few, the proud…”,

but we feel like it.

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 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.

There are manuals for how to create soldiers,

but few directions for creating veterans,

why the VA, Legion, DAV, VFW, Veterans Voices matter,

the places where the bond can be recaptured.

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 forget, relive or remember it,

and today I welcome them home,

tell them that, whether we have met or not,

I honor them.

53 in 23

 

Golden Anniversary 50 

was going to be so nifty,

to Hawaii we would go,

but COVID just said no.

So we planned for 51,

that would be our fun,

but COVID said no again,

so we had to change our plan.

So then came 52.

Try once more? (Would you?)

Our old cat said don’t you go,

stay close to me at home, and so,

we had lunch at a favorite place,

great food would be the case,

and we made it quite expensive,

with calories extra extensive.

Now it’s 53,

Hawaii’s still a mystery,

don’t know what I can say,

we don’t even go to LA.

So it’ll be a late lunch once again, 

Seasons 52 will be the plan,

home in bed by nine.

(And you know what?)

As long as we’re together,

long-loving birds of a feather,

that will be just fine.

Little Gifts

 

I have known a little sorrow,

still have hope for my tomorrow,

like to walk without a care,

simply strolling, being there.

I’m not rich but I don’t mind,

knowing I can still be kind,

see many ways to prove my worth,

still have hope for Mother Earth.

I’m getting older, there is that,

yet I can still be one cool cat.

How will my future be measured?

What will I think of as treasured?

Maybe leave behind regrets,

be okay with little secrets,

be comfy, come to grips,

with life’s quite frequent slips,

lose the need for lots of stuff,

let others’ joy give me enough.

Always return my shopping cart.

It’s not much, but it’s a start.

Write to authors when it’s me they touch,

it inspires them, means so much.

And when I get even older - this is wild,

I’ll get on my knees when I speak to a child.

Raina and Art 2023

 Mad City Lovers

Art and Raina

sittin’ in a tree,

livin’ and a-lovin’

in Waunakee.

13 years of marriage,

never making it look hard,

family all around them,

friendship by the yard.

Wishing them bliss forever,

though no one’s keeping score,

hope to see them growing old together,

for 100 years (or more).

New Year’s Eve 2023-24

 

Dear Walt

Indeed the  last day

is also the first,

for readers and writers

who hunger and thirst

for your thoughts, words and prompts,

your constant bravado,

even those left coasters still abed,

still in dreams with Erato.

It’s a day of cleansing, promise,

more joyful than hateful,

thankful for your work,

miles beyond grateful,

certain of the Good that is coming,

of the scribblings in store,

we’ll keep dreaming and poeming,

throughout 2024.

Leaning into it

Taking the last line in another’s poem and making it my first line in my poem. I chose Mary Oliver’s “Don’t Hesitate”…

Joy is not made to be a crumb.

Great Good is yet to come

in this life, this brief moment

between two eternities,

spent in such a fragile package.

So I yield to its power, joy,

realize it should not take all that

to simply be happy, 

opening with the beautiful dawn,

breaking for me today, allowing me

to breathe and cherish life.

Went to sleep in grace,

awoke in gratitude,

a grand day awaits.