Young Old Love

When the love bug bites

A person's heart starts to fly

No matter their age

New Beginnings - Redundant Irony

Today, a new home for you, my friend

loss of the old
the beautiful
memory-filled old,
hoping it never should end,
spilled into
internal scold: vague guilt
for leaving behind
what once was a new beginning.

Bitersweet joy
the fresh, the new
then here comes the old:
old furniture and art
clothing and pots

bringing the old to the new
begins possibility again

As the old
joins the new-to-you
(starts a fresh dream)
the redundance of feeling
fleeting through memory
recalls
the newness of being.
Yet we know the story.

Every day is a new beginning with familiar parts:
feelings fresh and old at the once
thoughts build on thoughts thought before
familiar friends change with time.

It's morning.
Open the door!

Decade by days

Each day brings a surprise

Focus on the now


Then time slips by

by decades

and here am I



sigh



why?


What is relatedness today

may stay

no goodbye.


decades of love

make a life.


which is a what


not a why

enlightenment

As dawn nudges out the night
I warm to the day

Weigh myself

Brush those teeth

Wash that face

Brush the hair


light easily at the
breakfast table
for morning milk

and plod heavily to work

Routine stultifies

Head

"Use your head," they say...

bloody and sore, it's tired.
I stay with the test
Skin and bone against bloody concrete

until one of us (me) is bested
And retires from the game.

Years later I realize the test
of head pushed hard and hard again
will never win
against concrete's physical abuse

or mental gain
win
when
a thinking game is used to take the place
of spirit and juice:

the soul's main frame

Just ice

January may not be the coldest month

but it follows the warmth of December



The fires, the drinks, the cheer

recede below consciousness



Winter is now

with ice fairies

furled just so



Twinkling snow

sublime



lifts moods

slows time



to shiver

would be a crime

Janis

A Happy New Year

Two faced Janis comes again

January is sure queer

April is the cruelest month

or so they say

but I find January a mix of relief,

sadness, hope, and exhaustion

Thank goodness for Groundhog Day!

Hands

Hands of a writer

gentle, soft and manicured

Find my soul in bed

Home

"I'm coming home."

"Jesus I'm coming home."

Dying, my great grandmother

sat up

said her piece


and stopped mid air


collapsing down into

her final rest,

after fifteen years

in a wheeled chair.

The family came to see

what all the commotion was about