Walking a mile

in my shoes is just the start

for you to understand me.

~

Knowing what connects

you to the ground is a start

toward understanding.

As the sky readies

for rain, the defiant sun

insists on shining.

~

Shining endlessly,

eclipsed by moon and weather,

it persists indifferently.

Grim reminders stand

testament to foolish men

in Manassas’ fallow fields.

~

What occurred there changed

the assumptions made. The fight

endured. War is not civil.

Surprised stores don’t have

Easter stuff on display since

they market Christmas in May.

~

Such is the nature

of holiday marketing.

Naturally, it makes no sense!

The mere threat of rain

causes some to cancel plans

but others plan on dancing.

~

Rain or shine, to dance

or not to dance remains the

eternal question.

What a difference

it would make if we’d compost

over-ripe issues.

~

Compost all you want.

Once you’ve got that rot managed,

someone’s sure to bring fresh fruit.

Do trees view with dread

the sundering of their leaves

and winter’s coming hunger?

~

Or are they grateful

for a respite from all that

weighty carrying?

Speeding through our lives

we fail to yield to tiny

passing moments of wonder.

~

Such hasty living

never made much sense to me.

Rushing headlong to our death.

Change is not merely

necessary for living,

change and life are one.

~

Have we then become

life-deniers when we keep

playing the same well-loved song.?

Who needs movies when

comedy and drama can

be found at the bird feeder?

~

A microcosm

representing life’s foibles,

displayed innocuously.

Sunny flowers bloom

in roadside drainage ditches

and other wasted spaces.

~

Though not planted and

not tended, they transform

places where they land.

On our evening walk

Knox runs with sticks, rolls in grass,

sniffs the grass. I stroll along.

~

A tolerant grin

ghosts across your face, I’m sure,

as you regard his antics.

These late summer days,

just cool enough to suggest

approaching autumn weather.

~

Every year we fall

for these hopeful previews of

coolness and color.

The sun and clouds are

starting a warm discussion

as the day begins.

~

As their discussions

always get overheated,

I predict there will be tears.

Sudden heavy rains

make sodden, heavy branches

and fill branches to their banks.

~

You can bank on this:

heavy, fallen branches can

branch out into ponds and creeks.

Ever so slowly

realizations start to dawn.

What took us so long?

~

As dawn’s light begins

to slowly imbrue the sky,

darkness yields, but grudgingly.

Hedonistic joy

can not be sustainable

without, first, doing hard work.

~

Joy, an unearned gift,

sometimes lies unopened when

we’re preoccupied with work.

At day’s end when we

are all tuckered out, we just

want to be tucked in.

~

Slipping ‘neath the sheets

and falling into slumber

buoy us for tomorrow.

That fallen tree branch

expressed his indignation

as I bent to pick him up.

~

He was protesting

your human assumption he

was a cheap pickup.

From the birds’ early

morning broadcast system we

get a wakeup call.

~

And by their delay

in their southward migration

we get, yet, another one.

Fellowship remains,

even with separation,

if the foundation is true.

~

Time and distance can

not break the sturdy bonds of

a true connection.

Who can find the time

to watch the sun slowly rise,

listen to the birds’ sweet songs?

~

Those who know that life’s

more than earning a living

value the worth of such things.

Subtle interplay

between woods and rising mist

marks the changing of seasons.

~

A fleeting moment

of lovely interplay saved

now for all of us.

The sky begins to

fill with chattering birds as

they begin their long journeys.

~

Soon, they will arrive,

to darken trees and phone lines

then rise in joyous cavorts.

This cotton batting

between my mind and my life

leaves much to be desired.

~

Hard though it may be,

better to have soft cotton

there than a bunch of hard nails.

After summer’s heat,

a small taste of fall wets our

appetite for more.

_

Like a cold entrée

autumn rains may quench our thirst

but our joints will ache for warmth.

With September’s arrival

warm and cool banter

for who will have the most say.

~

Summer speaks loudly

still despite the cooling trend

Autumn remains weeks away

Why must all good things,

in order to receive them,

require so much toil?

~

A dog’s love’s freely

given as is a summer’s

breeze and star-filled nights.

Ever hopeful, we

kids kept jumping off garage

roofs, hoping, this time to fly.

~

Just like little birds,

judging that it’s fledgling time,

fling themselves into the sky.

Is there any shame

in finding satisfaction

in the unconventional?

~

We can be shamed, but

we don’t have to feel shame for

liking what we like.