Knox doesn’t share my

interest in poetry. I

don’t share his interest

in sticks, but somehow we share

an interest in each other.

JDG

For most of my life,

my mind and body have not

been on speaking terms.

Now they’ve begun to converse

and we all feel more complete.

JDG

I struggle to find

a way through the wilderness

of words to the home

where poetry resides. There

I’ll dine on meter and rhyme.

JDG

The morning starts slow.

I eavesdrop on talk between

the birds and the trees

as the sun tries to make up

its mind whether to shine or not.

JDG

.

She sang a song of

lilting happiness as she

hit the high notes of

her day – beautiful music

to any grandmother’s ears.

JDG

Today in the clouds

I saw a phoenix rising

and a young dragon.

It’s time to sit and listen

to what those two have to say.

JDG

Knox saw a spider

and invited it to play,

but the spider showed

no interest much to Knox’s

dismay. It just crawled away.

JDG

Every night Knox goes

to the sliding glass door, spots

the same old dog who

grows and changes just as he

does, barks and invites him in.

JDG

I sit and watch as

the candle flickers and burns,

the wax and the day’s

tension slowly melting. I

only had to strike the match.

JDG

Sophira the cat

approached me for a pat, but

Knox did not approve.

He nudged her aside, then placed

his own head upon my lap.

JDG