Civic engagement,

even when not signed up for,

always a worthwhile task.

~

It becomes harder

when such engagement is not

also civil engagement.

~

What’s more civically

engaging than a little

civil disobedience?

~

Civic engagement

in the form of “good trouble“

is done civilly.

Round and round Trump goes.

Where he’ll stop nobody knows.

He’s a human roulette wheel.

~

But how should he bet;

Since the only winning move,

is to never play the game?

Why name them Red Buds,

these sentinels of springtime,

when their buds are more purple?

~

Beats me, but that tree

by any other name would

still be just as sweet.

Dandelions dance

in the sunlight. They’re making

their Spring appearance.

~

All the lawn’s a stage

and all the flowers players

in the vibrant rites of spring.

Be not quick to judge

the competence of others.

All of us have had bad days.

~

It’s when those days

turn into years that we start

to confirm our fears.

Tiny bits of sun

have fallen upon our lawn

and put down their roots.

~

From those tiny roots,

with the help of some rainfall,

glorious gardens will grow.

Saturday sometimes

murders my motivation,

instigating indolence.

~

Sometimes we all need

a chance to let effort die

and indolence come alive.

Before I even

walk through the door, the dogs start

barking their welcome.

~

Their barking begins

before you exit the car!

Connoisseurs of gravel crunch.

When the door slams shut,

will you regret words exchanged

or will you seethe in fury?

~

On both sides of slammed

doors are hearts and minds that can

choose to open or stay closed.

What story are you

telling yourself today? Are

you open to revision?

~

Every day, a tale,

scripted by unchecked ego

unhampered by editor.

From these wind-blown trees

many leafy leprechauns

lay insensate on the lawn.

~

Trees and leaves wanted

to honor Saint Patrick in

the only way they knew how.

As prepared as we

can be for a storm we hope

we will never see.

~

Storms. They come and go.

Even if we are ready,

we’ll have messes when they’re gone.

When you look within

our bellicose leadership,

you will find no substance there.

~

Hollowness of heart

and hollowness of mind is

their true hallmark.

It seems we’re always

on the lookout, but fail to

look after ourselves.

~

Outward vigilance

consumes all our hearts and minds.

No time for introspection.

The unscrupulous

count on people’s confusion

to take them to the cleaners.

~

Once they get them there,

they take them for all they’ve got

and smile all the while.

The weather must be

getting its instructions from

contradictory sources.

~

Fake news! All fake news!

This weather- It is perfect.

I make the best weather. Great!

Where did winter go

and why did spring not follow

before this summer weather?

~

Just wait. The forecast

predicts winter’s quick return

in a single afternoon.

Full moon admires

its reflection in the pond

as the owls keep asking, “Who?”.

~

Narcissus above

enthralled by the reflection

ignores owls poignant question.

Bathing in ill grace

leaves a soul in ill humor.

Killjoys ruin all the fun.

~

Let’s bathe in light

and cherish moments of joy

no matter how small.

Round and round we go

as our president spins tales

of all the wars he has stopped.

~

Pay no attention

to that war around the world

behind delusions curtain.

Some apologies

for insensitive remark

just drive the foot in deeper.

~

Some apologies

for war strikes on your neighbors

just drive the foot in deeper.

A new home for Noem

and many of us can’t wait

for her to move on…

~

The devil you know,

although reprehensible,

may outshine the next demon.

Aging has stripped me

bare of all remaining shreds

of my, once cool, tolerance.

~

Tolerance seems to

ebb and flow as I balance

on the surf board of aging.

Leadership doesn’t

have to be loud, a fact which

certain folks in power miss.

~

Bellicose leaders

fail to grasp the core tenet

behind Teddy R’s doctrine.

For ninety-five years

our nation has tried to sing

the un-singable anthem!

~

That Francis Scott Key

composed a song which

can only be sung off key.

February’s funk

has passed. Wonder what March will

feel compelled to add.

~

Musky March odors,

redolent of rotting leaves,

may be masked by floral notes.

Another Sunday;

rather like the one before

but for this undeclared war.

~

On this day of rest

there’s unrest as old men send

the young to fight their battles.

As February

slips away, who knows what will

come marching along?

~

Likely armies will

go marching off to battle

distracting some from folk’s polls.

Can justice Survive

when the crook’s behind the wheel

of the national SWAT van?

~

That crook is headed

for a crash.The question is

who will take the wheel.

Before we gulp down

another bite, let’s pause, wait,

and savor what we’ve eaten.

~

Appreciation

and a heart-felt gratitude

undermine modern ennui.