This truth is stranger

than the strangest of fictions;

nothing trumps reality

~

Nothing could very

well be our illustrious

president’s reality.

As Fall approaches

what wise words will carry us

valiantly to Spring?

~

We welcome winter

as more hurricanes approach

and flood waters still subside.

How can we believe

everything is beautiful

as the whole world burns?

~

Exaggerations

leave us a legacy of

ugly, partial truths.

When we consider

the impermanence of things,

do we find hope or despair?

~

Buddha would teach us

to meet each transient grief

with an ephemeral joy.

Can one be depressed,

even on this rainy day,

since it’s dry inside?

~

Singing in the rain,

they know moods aren’t dependent

on weather and place.

Do you think it’s true

we most appreciate light

when it’s the darkest of nights?

~

There is no mistake;

in the deepest, darkest, night

any little light is bright.

He can not reach out,

offers no comforting touch,

a stranger to empathy.

~

Let’s turn from him and

focus on the compassion

each of us can bring.

In adverse times why

is his response petty tweets

and self-congratulation?

~

When you have no soul

but possess a huge ego

you profit from others pain.

These rising waters

and rising anxieties,

also raise iron resolve.

~

Resolve and kindness –

 the bar to which some rise as

others sink to pettiness.

When there’s much to do

and much ado, what then can

one possibly do?

~

There is much to do,

also much ado, that’s true,

but then again, what is new?

When the news is bad

but things aren’t quite as they seem,

how do we discern the truth?

~

To discern the truth

whether the news is good or

bad, check the source and your heart.

In these troubled times

may we not lose sight of small

joys in our surrounds.

~

Gentle cool breezes,

the chirp of falling water,

and pleasant dinner flavors.

Early skeins of geese,

on this, coolish, summer morn,

begin their journey… northward?

~

At least they began

without delay which can’t be said

 for the way this poet flies.

With so much to do

and so little time, it is

easy to forget.

~

Absentmindedness

is a constant affliction

regardless of life’s chaos.

When so much is wrong

where do we start? Could it be

with a look at our own hearts?

~

Some hearts are hollow

and a closer look at one

could reveal just what is wrong.

I have no idea

where my muse retreated to;

perhaps she will return soon?

~

Even muses need

a rest. Until she returns,

carry  on and do you best.

So what did you learn

from your sojourn in the sun

that will help on rainy days?

~

The sun always shines;

even when occluded by

moons, clouds, or monstrous egos.

As the sun descends

upon vacation’s glory,

how do we prepare?

~

No preparation

is needed. Just revert to

quivering lips and pulling hair.

What’s the best way to

handle the darkness hiding

in the cellars of our hearts?

~

Open the bottles

aging and cooling therein

and release their warming glow.

Some people, it seems,

have a style all their own

and, sometimes, it’s overblown.

~

Small hands and ruffled

feathers – signature style

of the overblown.

A true compass does

not conflate; rather, it

differentiates.

~

When one lives without

limits or bounds, it can be 

a chore to compass restraint.

Gators bide their time,

patiently basking in sun,

waiting for the feast to come.

~

They’ve grown impatient,

or so it seems, and bearing

torches walk our streets.

Looking out over

the ocean, I give thanks for

the vistas you’ve shared with me.

~

And I thank you for

meeting children raised as kin

by you and your dear old friend.

Hours on the road

bound for some distant vista,

and the sojourn comes up short…

~

How frustrating it

is when fruits of our seeking

fail to satisfy.

When hate comes knocking

how can we turn it away

without locking heart’s door?

~ 

If we ignore them,

sending only the police,

what will they have gained?

And so it’s begun,

this retreat into the sun,

anticipating winter.

~

Anticipation

remains. The sun, however,

has gone on retreat.

How Christ must weep when

he sees Christians crucify

the very teachings he died for.

~

This time Jesus weeps,

only not from compassion,

rather in disgust.

Despite the chaos,

if we seek deeper waters,

may we, too, find peace?

~

If we learn to swim

and not sink in waters so

very deep, we shall find peace.

Any hints on how 

to stay focused and caring

when s#!! hits the fan?

~

A huge, huge build up

followed by a huge let down

brings things into sharp focus.

Is it truly work

if you’re loving the labor

or is work about the wage?

~

Work is work whether

paid or not, but if it’s fun

so much the better.