It would be helpful

to know where the line we just

crossed was located.

~

Once we’ve crossed the line,

what benefit do we gain

by learning where it had been.

Oh, my cable tow,

how I lament your great length

as you drag me to and fro…

~

The sacred ties that

bind sometimes require us

to go to great lengths.

The climate of change

must come fast if we’re going

to halt climate change.

~

Would we could equal

the swift rate of climate change

with a speedy reaction!

Wonder of wonders!

A celebration was held

and there was zero bloodshed!

~

In honor of your

recent maturity, we

were on our best behavior.

Fifty seven years

ago I birthed a wee boy.

Now he’s a middle-aged man.

~

Only outwardly

is that boy an aging man;

his heart still wees from the stoop!

Nothing tastes quite like

a crusty, fresh, French baguette

on the left bank of the Seine.

~

The senses rejoice,

filling heart and body with

deep satisfaction.

Peanut butter snacks

may not be the answer to

life’s problems, but they do help.

~

Any snack will help

ameliorate hardships

and improve dispositions.

They don’t need to share

their internal dramascape

with everyone around them.

~

For them and for us

sometimes things just spill over

and then the clean-up begins.

All along the way

we meet those who help and those

who hinder. Let’s be helpers.

~

When we greet strangers

as if they were long lost friends,

one who’d hinder may help out.

Gold leaves and pink streaked,

pale blue sky – Nature has its

own special style.

~

Uninvested in

silly human conventions

like contrast or complement

Does scarcity drive

consumption more than outright

prohibitive injunction?

~

What’s beyond our grasp

for whatever reason makes

us reach for it even more.

Time crawls when waiting

for test results, but the mind

doesn’t stop racing.

~

Anxiety builds

in the silence of waiting

amplifying every fear.

Indivisible?

You keep pledging to that, friend,

but do you know what it means?

~

And what about that

other part -with liberty

and justice for all?

Today’s news wasn’t

music to my ears, but we

can compose a different tune.

~

A Cacophony

is, sometimes, just what it takes

for us to pay attention.

Icy autumn rains

with the warnings of a freeze,

presage garden’s sudden death.

~

Or at least a long

winter’s sleep before a new

beginning next spring.

Limited options

can sometimes release latent

creativity.

~

Creativity

flourishes under hardship,

thus producing improvements.

Pulling out often

doesn’t go quite like we plan…

in both love and war.

~

All plans, from the best

laid plans to the unbest, oft

can go astray.

I’m pretty sure my

list of things to do stretches

from here to Kalamazoo.

~

The problem with lists

is all the things you will miss

on the road to Michigan.

Blue Hawaiian skies

and bright tropical sunsets

can’t match Virginia breezes.

~

Spoken like a true

Virginian who Hawaiians

would say is full of hot air.

Any skeletons

in your closet you could hand

out for Halloween?

~

All my skeletons

have been outed long ago.

Such is the way with old men.

Ever less sunny.

these vanishing autumn days

wind down like a denouement.

~

Dwindling daylight –

both denouement and prelude,

Autumn’s goodbye and hello.

Gusty winds scatter

leaves all about, creating

a moving picture.

~

Add the unique sounds

and the scattered scents; it’s like

movies in “Odorama”!

Autumn Thunderstorms,

though lacking ferocity,

compensate with their surprise.

~

Sudden but mild

beats slow moving but wild

every single time.

It’s hard to keep track

when you feel like you’ve really

gone completely off the rails.

~

If it’s a train wreck

on which you model your life,

rails are unnecessary.

Many old grey men

long to secure the future

but won’t engage younger men.

~

Some old grey folks

want to secure their future

at the cost of younger folks.

Going with the flow

is fine unless you’re headed

for a waterfall.

~

Some folk just assume,

stout, oaken barrels they ride,

will carry them through unharmed.

Burning up the roads

leaves a poet feeling like

your basic dumpster fire.

~

If he took the road

less traveled, perhaps he’d slow

down and have a chance to write.

Sitting on the couch,

Knox by my side, I give thanks

for his silent company.

~

He’s a perfect man;

no muss, fuss, or opinion

to disrupt your quietude.

Perfection exists

in our imagination;

only there, and nowhere else.

~

An imperfect start

can sometimes take us beyond

our imagined perfection.