2025,

a year of infamy which

most of us came to regret.

~

May the coming spring

return common decency

after this heartless winter.

Sublime is the joy

of crafting a masterwork

from the midden heap.

~

The transformation

of garbage into gold is

always rewarding.

What’s in store for us,

we can’t know, but we

can show him we can’t be bought.

~

Just because he pays

doesn’t mean we will stay bought.

That’s the best part of the art of this deal!

Reggae tunes and dreads

seem, somehow, incongruous

in Gadsden flagged pick-up trucks.

~

No matter one’s race

or creed, not one of us wants

to be tread upon.

In keeping with Trump’s

religious understanding,

he asks that we worship him.

~

Worshipful Masters

know that title accolade

is but friendly courtesy.

On Boxing Day

we re-box those Christmas gifts

we’re intent on returning!

~

And we’re glad Christmas

only comes once each year as

return postage is quite high.

The deer around here,

not wanting to pull sleds or

fly, keep a low profile.

~

Happily their strike

did not wreck the holidays

or crash the economy.

Shockingly pink clouds

striated with purple bands

presage the coming sunrise.

~

A welcome splash of

color adds to the pleasure

of this warm December day.

It used to be when

words failed me I was stunned by

something good or bad.

~

Words fail us these days,

not for any one old thing,

but from endless psychic blows.

Señor Quixote

tilts imagined enemies

that threaten his delusions.

~

His bone spurs led him

to mount a dark horse making

him feel great again.

It’s obvious that

Trump does not toil, but he

certainly knows how to spin.

~

Since he spins faster

than any whirling dervish,

maybe he’ll deport himself?

Questing for insight

into the nature of life

leaves one feeling exhausted.

~

The nature of life

for humans allows them to

ponder such questions.

The older I get,

the more walking truly is

a balancing act.

~

And like acrobats

frolicking along tightropes,

great are a fall’s consequence.

When the light’s blinding

and the scratch of pen’s a shriek

perhaps it’s wise not to write.

~

What we know and what

we do sometimes collide and

it’s a toss-up which abides.

Defying the cold

and gloom, our Christmas cactus

gives a loud, pink shout.

~

Ours still languishes

in the drab olive doldrums,

unwilling, yet, to flourish.

Has there ever been

any Presidential tail

with near as much dog to wag?

~

As his bark began

to fail, he went whole hog

and began to wag the dog.

We shiver, not from

the winter’s cold, but from his

self-centered and heartless words.

~

Who would have believed

Archie Bunker’s hollow hate

would have the bully pulpit?

Sun implies a warmth

belied quickly by the wind

biting bitter from the north..

~

Sun‘s implicated

in providing some relief

from wind’s bitter bite.

Sitting here waiting

for inspiration to come,

but there’s been a slight delay.

~

Muses rarely come

to any one location.

Better to go seek them out.

Yet one stubborn patch

still remains, tenaciously,

when the rest, to melt, succumbs.

~

Some patches can show

a cold shoulder to the sun

though others melt in his gaze.

The magic has gone

into hiding waiting for

the next snowfall to appear.

~

Magic yet lingers,

merely having retreated

into the warming soil.

Monday… Saturday;

makes no difference, either way,

to those old, retired men.

~

All days seemed alike

until the snow left its mark

making it clear they could fall.

This blanket’s not warm,

probably because it’s made

mostly of packed snow and ice.

~

Neither is it dark

and conducive of resting;

begging us to go and play.

Again with the snow?

This time falling in daylight;

so no surprise on waking.

~

The surprise was how

much and how long the snow fell.

Just glad we didn’t fall too.

Nighttime visitor

went through our trash, frantically

searching for a midnight snack.

~

Meanwhile his bud

became a nationwide meme

searching for a midnight nip!

Savor the silence

and simple soft susurrus

of that shawl of falling snow.

~

I wrapped myself in

silence and in no time I

found myself at peace.

On snow covered ground

creatures leave traces

of their comings and goings.

~

Meanwhile above

defying gravity’s pull

snow clings to bark, limb and branch.

Out of his mouth pour

words that make no sense and have

zero relevance.

~

Sounds like word salad.

Oh well… add it to the long

list of diagnostic traits

Why bother with words

when it’s clear they must think they

only make verse worse?

~

Our verse could be wurst

if we wrote our wurst verse

in a noise Biergarten!