On most Tuesday afternoons for

nearly a year,

I arrived too

tired to say more

than hello. Retreating behind

my office door,

I finished up

before my long

 drive home. And you? You brought me tea,

 allowed me space

  and silence to

  renew. Thank you.

                                                              JDG

Even after all these years, I

can see the light

shining on the

red dishpan the

morning I returned. Why I fled,

sleeping in a

field beside the

road, has long been

forgotten. What remains is the

sun’s slanting rays

on that dishpan,

warming the room.

                                                            JDG

Shades of salmon wash across the

sky in foaming

clouds, then gently

fade. The evening’s

mottled gray tamps down the early

exuberance

of day as it

   prepares the sky

for night’s visit with the stars and

an inconstant

moon, easing all

transitioning.

                                                 JDG

A sigh, a laugh, a word, a smile

can sometimes soothe,

can sometimes sting.

What is sent falls

on fallow ground if  it isn’t

taken. What is

taken but not

given thrives on

land all its own. So much depends

on the will and

spirit of the

recipient.

                                              JDG

Tails wagged and tales spoken greet me

when I return.

Even before

I’m in the door,

they welcome me and fill me in

on all I missed

while I was gone.

Though there might be

calmer ways to come back home, I

relish this wild,

wagging welcome

of tails and tongues.

                                                              JDG

“I really need to cut your grass

three times a month,”

he said, and when

told my budget

wouldn’t permit this added cost,

he said he’d do

it anyway; he’d

 save both gas and

 time that way. As I thanked him, I

 knew what he was

trying to help

 me save was face.

                                                             JDG

What is it that makes us willing

to see and speak

the truth when just

minutes before

we weren’t? No persuasive words were

spoken nor was

pressure applied,

yet suddenly

there comes a shift and through this door

life lightly steps,

softly singing

a whole new song.

                                                                  JDG

A switch gets flipped, a channel changed

and what once was

is no longer

here. For most things

slow fades suit me better than these

sudden shifts, but,

alas, I’m not

often asked for

my preference. Changes flash and

changes dribble

forcing me to

adjust my scope.

                                                                   JDG.

Just across the bridge, the road turns

gold as the sun

begins its long

descent and for

a time the way is golden lit

before it turns

from gold to gray,

then back again.

So it goes until the final

bend toward home when

the shadows grow

and night is near.

                                                        JDG

Listening to the leaf blower

outside my door,

I find myself

wishing for a

blower to clear away all dried

leavings from my

day and prepare

an open space

for something fresh.  A sigh guides me

to my breath. There 

I discover

just what I need.

                                                      JDG