When agreement and

praise come knocking, can you guess

who is opening the door?

~

Whoever’s knocking

with sycophantic fawning

won’t likely find who they want.

Someone is to blame!

Naturally, of course, we bear

no responsibility!

~

The world we know would

 be irrevocably changed

 were it to be otherwise.

How can they begin

to make America great 

again? Start by not lying?

~

Maybe recognize

that America’s greatness

remains, despite their efforts?

Waiting three hours

to see the bloody doctor!

At least he gave us good news.

~

At the end of three

hours your glass was emptied.

Glad it was refilled.

Knock, knock, who isn’t

there? My fellow poet, please

come near. I won’t bite.

~ 

You may not bite me,

but the same can not be said

of my car’s knock, knock, noshing!

If we play, rainy

days can lift us up instead

of getting us down.

~

Glorious summer

rains are made for outdoor play;

winter rains for indoor games.

As the snow slowly

loses its pristine, white sheen,

is there something to be gleaned?

~

As with everything,

purity loses luster

the longer it a-lingers.

The birds are very 

clear: ” Go to the store. Look. Buy

some birdfeed. Winter draws near.”

~

Bird’s all a Twitter,

demanding we meet its needs;

hungering for attention.

Hercules labored.

Conspicuously absent

was shoveling snow.

~

Or all the mundane

daily tasks that those who care

do regularly.

We are skidding on

thin ice literally and

figuratively.

~

Skidding and skating,

even on the thinnest ice,

sure beats falling through.

Drawing a deep breath

opens up many options

beyond those deafening screams.

~

A good response to

tweets from individual

referred to as # 1.

Just a reminder.

Seventy-six years ago,

your awesome mother was born.

~

How many more ’til

she begins to acquire

a patina of wisdom?

Our first scattering

of snow, pretty, but to all

kids’ dismay, it will not stay.

~

A fleeting dusting

to be sure, but winter’s young.

I’m trusting more is coming.

All our denial

can’t suppress the growing dread

borne upon this shifting breeze.

~

When hope grows grounded

roots of will and willingness,

we withstand such breeze borne dread.

The weather’s become

a quick-change artist and has

left us to quickly adapt.

~

But adaptation,

an evolutionary

process, is not a quick change!

Even though we know

better, we still succumb to

anger’s bitter tongue.

~

Some vomit anger,

others cultivate drama;

neither solves any problem.

Why must folk complain

about all they do not like

yet take no action for change?

~

Why pay full price when

talk is cheap, action costs, and

those armchairs beckon?

As November fades

and December approaches,

we note plans we haven’t made.

~

Poets have long known,

from Sun Tzu to Robert Burns,

that planning’s over rated!

Sharp spike of rack

flaming razor shard of ice;

most unwelcome forehead guest.

~

Sometimes it’s no fun

to meet manifestations

of the cutting edge.

On this crisp fall day,

let us linger awhile

and not fast-forward to May.

~

Dry crackling leaves

and fresh November breezes

are preferred to springtime sneezes.

Seeking to preserve

National Integrity

he stoops to gassing children.

~

How low can he go

before even the blind can see

the lack of integrity?

It’s been a contest

between bright light and shadow.

Is it always thus?

~

In some darker times

it’s harder to distinguish

dim bulbs from lighter shadows.

So! Crucifixion

is the ivory soap certain

fate for all who confront him?

~

Fox is his soap box

and fiction is what is used

to crucify dissenters.

In the dark of night

A voice calls out, “Who? Who? Who?”

I call back, “Not me. Not me.”

~

Who can argue with

any speaker wise enough

to call from darkness these days?

Shall we gather by

calm waters this Thanksgiving

and await the certain storm?

~

Each year we gather

and each year we are joined by

many thunder birds.

A midweek break in

 the usual routine gives

 us a chance to mend at last.

~

This broken routine,

like a low country levy,

makes way for a different flood.

“Form follows function

modernist architects say.

Does this apply to fashion?

~

As far as fashion 

goes, nothing much is followed,

certainly not form.

As Thanksgiving nears

what advice do you have for

finicky eaters?

~

The world will not end,

contrary to your belief,

if, on your plate, two foods touch.

Feeding the spirit

can satisfy some hungers

no mere food could ever fill.

~

Whether it’s spirit

or body that needs feeding,

we must be awake to act.

What was lost has now

been found, and NO, I am not

speaking of my mind!

~

Perhaps you refer

to those jewels that tyrant fears;

our collective cojones?