Through Different Eyes

When I looked at that

fallen tree in our pristine

pond, I saw only

unwelcome debris, but when

those ducks looked, they saw

a welcoming shelter for

them and their duckling babies.


Granddaughter’s Delight

“Look, Gaba,” she said,

“our first butterfly this year.

I hope she finds things

to her liking and lingers

long enough to bring

more cheer.” Then seeing her light

on a purple bloom,

she smiled, saying, “She’s found

a way to dispel the gloom.”


Saved By A Metaphor

“How do you like it?”

she asked, referring to her

head shaved nearly bare.

Shuffling through my

Good Granny Guide, I replied,

“It is so cool, it’s

practically air-conditioned.”

She grinned. “You’re warm, but not hot.”



Major Rewrite

Pen at the ready,

I righted myself after

a hesitant start.

I didn’t close heart’s door or

turn away. I let

whatever came have its say

and writing rewrote me.


Multiple Choice

You can cry over

spilled milk. You can even lash

out and blame the glass,

the table, someone near by.

You could read into

it some cosmic message from

on high and ask for

hints of its deeper meaning

or you could just note

the mess you’ve made, and with no

more ado, begin to clean.