If I am not free
to disagree civilly,
can I be called truly free?
~
Is it the land of
the free when peaceful protests
and selected books are banned?
If I am not free
to disagree civilly,
can I be called truly free?
~
Is it the land of
the free when peaceful protests
and selected books are banned?
When will we ever
learn that enough is really
and truly enough?
~
Enough is enough?
Egregious quitter talk
To the mass consumptionists!
Does the fact we can
contemplate God’s existence
imply we Do have free will?
~
The fact that we can
affirm, deny, or ignore
suggests that we do.
Watching my green lawn
slowly fill with yellow blooms
won’t endear me to neighbors.
~
All yellow blossoms
are not, by nature, evil,
Unless you’re a greenskeeper.
Is humanity,
I fervently hope and pray,
more than just taxonomy?
~
We can only hope
humanity will become
defined by its humaneness.
I don’t know if those
two woodpeckers thought they could
bring down that tree but they tried.
~
Woodpeckers prefer
their trees to remain upright.
That way, their snacks are cleaner.
Why won’t current flow
Through my tractor as it should
Instead of through my ankle?
~
Could the current be
telling you that you’re the one
that needs to get up and go?
Yellow butterfly
flits about in morning light,
glad the rain has stopped.
~
Our Irish kin say
it is a departed soul
peaceful in the afterlife.
Earth Day came and went
And I didn’t mow the lawn
or at least not all of it.
~
I’m sure the birds sang
with joy not to have to
compete with that lawn mower.
The sun failed to bless
us with golden light on this
gloomy Sunday morn.
~
Overcast brings joy
Of another caliber
to life’s peaceful arsenal
Old Albert Hofmann,
the day after biking high,
pressed onward in his research.
~
He had hopes that through
LSD we’d come to see
nature and ourselves deeply.
Hoping to find some
magic, they traveled the world.
All the time, it was at home.
~
Using arcane keys
found on various journeys
opened hidden doors to them.
When linemen gather
Discussing state of the art
Sparks are sure to fly
–
When poets gather
the sparks they strike create rhymes
in search of created verse.
The road was lined with
buttercups bringing color
to an otherwise gray day.
~
Though the grey highway
winds its way into the gloom
buttercups gild its passage.
Somewhere in between
My idea and your reading
A poem is born
~
And even if not
one person reads it, it’s here
alive and waiting.
Knox briefly paused, then
quickly chased that retreating
fox, inviting him to play.
~
As the quick brown fox,
spying a quite spry young pup,
chose to quickly quit the field.
As days grow longer,
instead of dancing all night,
why choose an early bedtime.?
~
Choices increase as
options expand. How will we
spend this increase in daylight?
They dine together,
those two cardinals, but take
time for a beak to beak kiss.
~
Those beaky smoochers
need to be together more
to curtail public displays!
Awash in numbers
Eyes pulsating with fatigue
Just take the money, I beg!
~
All our resources
are taxed by April fifteenth
each and every year.
Before the sun’s up
they are, these cats, dogs, and birds,
telling us to rise and shine.
~
Choose not to succumb
no matter how insistent
their demanding seems
Must poetry be
analyzed and sterilized
in professorial form?
~
Not unless you want
poetry to slowly be
stripped of its vitality.
Eclipse was eclipsed
by Knox’s discovery
of nearby squirrels and sticks.
~
Nature in all forms,
From eclipses to lichens,
deserves our rapt attention.
If you’re doing good
so they’ll see you being good
you’re, likely, not really good.
~
The why can be as
important as the what, but
the good that is done still counts.
Clear skies, sunlit trees,
birdsong in the air – why stay
inside when all that’s out there?
~
The air is quite crisp
and the birdsong’s wanting for
the redolence of wood smoke.
Dreamy denizens
Scatter like the fey of old
At the alarm’s first shrilling
~
Those who live inside
nearly collide in their rush
for their morning meal.
Checking out seems to
be our family’s tendency.
It’s about heredity.
~
But we still check in…
with some gentle needling
and unsubtle wheedling.
That geezer in checks?
He’s not trying to be cool;
He’s just an old boomer nerd.
~
At a certain point
being cool is no longer
hot. Being comfortable is.
Trees, bushes, flowers,
and grass all welcome April’s
gift of needed rain.
~
Though rivers run wide,
drowning riparian blooms,
they nourish future flowers.
Fond recollections
and a chance to reminisce
drive us many mile from home.
~
Long drives are made much
easier with companions
and shared memories.
Tricks aren’t confined to
April 1st if you are Trump
or part of his team.
~
It’s less about “tricks”,
in my humble opinion,
than the illusion of “treats”.