Mother night
slowly tiptoed in,
wrapping earth and sky
in a comforting blanket.
JSG
Mother night
slowly tiptoed in,
wrapping earth and sky
in a comforting blanket.
JSG
I sit with a group
of women in the presence
of poetry when
suddenly I realize we
ourselves have become a poem.
JDG
I’m done with all this doing!
I’ll set aside those endless
chores and give
my hands and mind a rest.
I’ll step into the Sabbath sun
and loiter ’til I’m finally done.
JDG
His eyes look up at me
as he gives a soft whimper.
“Please open the door,” he pleads.
“I have some business to do outside”
“Does it have to do with squirrels? ” I ask.
He shakes his head, but we both know
he wants to give the squirrels a chase .
He really doesn’t have to go.
JDG
In a yard littered with sticks,
Knox and his dog friend
claim the same stick
and refuse to let go.
In a lot where empty
parking spaces abound,
two humans claim
the same parking place
and both refuse to budge.
Scarcity mindsets in the midst
of abundance or
senseless manifestations of dominance?
Who knows? But unlike the humans,
Knox and his friend
seem to enjoy the game.
JDG
Each evening when
almost all the seed is gone
and only a kernel or two remain,
the same plump bird comes
and finishes what is left.
Can birds be obsessive-compulsive too?
Or maybe I’m wrong and it’s not
the same bird, but right or wrong
that bird brings me pleasure,
and on that note I’ll rest.
JDG
Hearing the old tree
creak, I realized we two have
some things in common.
JDG
Worry came knocking today.
I invited her in as Rumi had suggested,
and offered her a cup of tea.
She refused the tea and began
wandering through the house.
She saw problems everywhere.
“What about this?” she asked; “What
about that?”. Finally I suggested
we take a walk and let Knox lead the way.
So we walked and she talked. I watched Knox
sniff the ground and run around
find some sticks and run and play.
By the time we got back home,
Worry waved goodbye, saying
she’d return some other day.
JDG
Time to put the pen
down. Out of ideas, but
still plenty of ink.
JDG
So far the flowers
shrug off the cold, knowing it’s
simply March’s way.
JDG