When the excitement died down

and all the other birds had flown away,

one small chickadee remained

to finish his meal in peace…

well, almost…

but when Knox ran up, brandishing 

his latest stick, that wee chickadee flew the coop.

JDG

I put-down my pen

and for a moment let the dark branches

silhouetted against the rising moon

silence my restless need for words.

To be here now with branches and moon

is enough.

JDG

Sweet and sour.

A bit of salt.

A lot of pepper.

She’s quite a dish,

says he.

JDG

Reason and reasons

are often at odds, whether

we’ll acknowledge it or not.

JDG

I wanted to write a poem

with big, Latin sounding words

and a meaning so obscure and deep

you’d have to go scuba diving to find it,

but Mary Oliver talked me out of it.

JDG

Even though it can be hard,

I want to keep digging until I find

the parts of  me I buried inside.

I know I’ll be richer for it.

JDG

Sometimes

what we don’t remember

is more important

than what we do –

important enough that

 our bodies quake

and give us a talking to.

JDG

In time that tall dead tree

will fall, but for now it stands,

leafless, branches outstretched,

a resting place for weary birds

and frightened squirrels,

purposeful even now.

JDG