Though way past ripe, at

seventy I still have some

maturing to do.

Three times now the grandchildren

have said as much as

they looked at me with patient

understanding or

just plain shock. Perhaps it would

be best to say I’m pre-rot.

                                                                       JDG

The heart of our small

village has been put up for

sale, but some things can’t

be bought. Buildings? Yes, even

the land, but its heart

remains in the safekeeping

of all our remembering.

                                                                JDG

Another dead deer

beside the road, its life cut

short by entering

a domain once his, but which

we now claim. Questions

of territory lie at

the heart of so much

pain. Would that we could find a

place for all life’s offerings.

                                                                                JDG

Proudly they showed me

their big haul, forty-two pounds

in all, of big red

apples they’d just picked. Their work

done, their minds were filled

with rows of cooling apple

pies, apple dumplings,

apple crisp, apple that and

apple this. But as

for me, all I can see are

days of work ahead

of me. An apple a day

might keep the doctor

away, but this great big haul

is quite another matter.

                                                              JDG

Nature takes out her

 brush each fall and never skimps

 on gold. Sometimes she

 mixes it with other shades;

 sometimes she spreads it

 straight. Her painting honors all

that was and all that

 is to come as she hallows

 all that’s now with golden brush.

                                                                 JDG

Coyote, that great

trickster, came around today,

mischief in his heart.

Luckily, he did not know

Raven is my coach.

In the end the joke’s on him

’cause Raven taught me

well. I quickly shifted shape

and escaped his wily rope.

                                                                      JDG