As I grew older,
I hoped the proportion of
words considered to
words spoken would increase. On
my better days, that’s
been the case, but on all those
other days, alas,
the ratio is inverse
as reason and I regress.
JDG
Hmmm
Purring, she lies on
my lap, nudging my hand with
her head, asking for
more strokes, an additional
scratch behind the ear.
There’s nothing coy, subtle or
demure here. She’s quite
direct about what she needs.
Hmmm, is there a lesson here?
JDG
A Timely Invitation
Our neighbor’s dog came
calling today, inviting
Toby to leave his
place upon the hill and chase
some crows, pester some
deer, herd some joggers. “The day
may be grey , but you
don’t have to take it lying
down,” he seemed to say.
Toby agreed and bounded
away. Maybe I’ll bound too.
JDG
The Catch
She jumped out of bed,
calling, “I’ve caught a poem!”
and went looking for
paper and pen. Baited and
waiting, the hook lies
just below the surface, and
sometimes, as my granddaughter
knows, a poem appears and bites.
JDG
Each One
Against the swelling
sweep of land and sky, trees stand,
bare branches outstretched.
Each tree, each branch, in its own
way, angles and pokes –
their jagged edges showing.
The great vastness holds,
unconcerned, such expression
of stark singularity.
JDG
Before First Light
Looking out into the dark of early
morning before
the sun casts
its first
light,
I
wonder
what the day
will bring and what
in me will rise to meet it. I hope for grace.
JDG
As Night Draws Close
As I drive toward home,
I am led to muse upon
the setting sun and
the touch of pink it brings to
the far horizon.
Startled by the sudden stench
of skunk, my musings
jump from pink to stink. I know
the sun will shortly
set, the stench will pass, and as
night draws close, I move toward home.
JDG
Rain Fest
Over the steady
sound of rain, a raven caws,
announcing the slow
shift of night to day. Later,
a small group gathers
on the lawn, undaunted by
the weather. At least,
though wet, the land’s not under
cover. Thus, we all can feast.
JDG
To Her I Go
We’re never too old
to yearn for the comfort of
a mother’s arms when
things get to be too much. That
cherry tree outside
my window stands firm and true
through every season.
At seventy one it’s
to her outstretched arms I go.
JDG
Locked In Ice
Down the hill the pond
lies frozen still, though we’ve had
two days of spring-like
warmth. Sometimes we’re like that too,
turning a cold shoulder
to offered warmth. The pond, in
time, will thaw, but we
can choose to stay locked in ice
through sun-kissed days of summer.
JDG
