I don’t know why, but

my muse stopped speaking to me.

Hence here’s a poem

written in iambic petulance

JDG

There are as many

sides to a story as there are

tellers and listeners. 

Consensus is difficult.

Still, we try.

JDG

It might be raining,

but that doesn’t stop Knox. 

He knows squirrels and sticks

are out there.

JDG

Moving picture show

outside my bedroom window.

Birds at the feeder.

 Squirrels on the run.

Cats and I enjoy  daily reruns.

JDG

With a grateful sigh

I surrendered myself to

the morning sky

while Knox and the sun beam

at my decision.

JDG

I know I dream when

I fall asleep, 

but when I awake

they quickly evaporate.

As if to compensate,

a strange assortment

of images arise

when I briefly close

my eyes to rest.

Why this is, I have no guess.

JDG

In stillness

silence sang

a wordless song

unaccompanied

by worry.

JDG

Once upon a pond

mother ducks and ducklings played.

After they left the pond grew still,

but memories of their play has stayed.

JDG