Don’t Hold Your Applause

Only now, at almost seventy-eight,

am I getting it. It’s not that I didn’t

have the information before.

I knew exercise and healthy eating

were good for you. Everyone knows that.

But now I’m bone tired.

Energy is what I need:

energy to do what I love,

energy to be there for the people I love,

energy to play and have fun.

Energy is what I don’t have.

Bingo! Lights flashing! 

Energy comes from healthy eating.

Energy comes from exercise.

Connection made! And just in time! 




Nevertheless The Tree Persists

I wish I had what that small tree has.

It pushed its way between the floor boards

of our porch and reached for the sun.

We admired its pluck, but after a while

we reluctantly chopped it down,

making it level with the porch floor.

This morning when I stepped outside

tiny sprigs of green were growing

from its leveled trunk.  I don’t know when or if 

we’ll have the resolve to crawl beneath the porch

and remove it, but for now it’s a living reminder

that with persistence you can break through

even a boarded ceiling.




Why Not

Why not find one small

thing we can do each day to

make things better and do it?


Great Expectations

Their message was not subtle;

the birds’ songs were loud and clear.

“The moon has set; the sun has risen

and our morning meal’s not here.”




 July, why can’t you

 pretend to be April like

February did?



If we were to ask

and they were to answer,

what would the creatures who live among us

have to say about what they need?

What if they’ve been telling us all along,

but we have lacked the will to hear?


With Will And Willingness

Across the divides

of gender, race, religion,

nationality, and politics we 

could build bridges constructed,

bit by bit, of small acts

 of respect and kindness –

bridges strong enough

to hold the weight of

our heavily burdened pasts.


Ah, Those Inner Boulders

Sometimes an inner boulder

gets in our way.

Yelling does no good, but if

we could sit with it long enough

we might see it for what it is

and what it could become –

a sign,

a sculpture,

a building block,

or all three.


By The Roadside

A tiny deer lies dead among bright

bachelor buttons –

a bleak sign of our hurried times.