Found nuts

Obviously I do not write in particular forms or rhyme patterns. On occasion a haiku will drop from the sky or be dug up from the ground. Otherwise,,,no.

I am glad

For all those poems

With form.

I am glad

For the ones

Which do not appear

As sonnet

As villanelle

As haiku

As haibun.

I do not write them,

At least

Not usually.

Most

Appear

Dropped down

From the sky.

They eat crumbs

Thrown out

On the patio,

Nuts buried

In the ground

When the blue jays remember

Where they are.

After the fall

Thank you, Polly. I heal from a cracked rib (this time) and it's good to have people in caring positions around me.

Two weeks

After the fall

The trainer suggests

We forgo

The core hold.

It would hurt

Like a mother.

She says,

In that inimitable way

She has.

My core

Thanks her.

Ash leaves

Still waiting for the ginkgo down the block to drop all its leaves at once, a regular fall occurrence. Working to hear the ash leaves in back talk with each other.

The ash leaves

In back

Are half green,

Half yellow.

The fall light

Illuminates them

So both show

The same.

They hold the branches,

Promise each other

To let go

At the same time,

Wait for fall wind

Or rain

To join each other,

Cover the grass.

Overlap

Thank you, Kelly Flanagan, for naming that, for us, for the world, there is significant overlap between the things of this world, even as we go about creating false boundaries.

I admit

I would prefer everything

With clean, clear

Boundaries.

Good versus bad

Light versus dark

Life versus death.

Our cat caught a mouse

Last night,

Worried it to death.

We woke to a dead mouse

On the bathroom floor.

It is better

Than a dead mouse

On the pillow.

The cat had done

What she is meant

To do.

We still mourn

The mouse,

Now under

The front bushes.

With cats and mice

There are clean, clear

Boundaries.

With us

Well

We mourn

The mouse

Under\

The front bushes.

Installation

We often, too often, use the word: installation, when a priest begins a new position in a parish. What happens when they leave, or it has been determined that they will leave? Is there a curb while they wait for the man in overalls with the truck with slatted sides? All too often...Yes.

We install appliances,

Plug them in

Let them work

Until they

Die

Or we determine

It’s time

For a newer model.

Then we

Put them on the curb.

They are carried away

By a man

In overalls

And a truck

With slatted sides.

Such an odd term

For people:

Installation.

Appliances

Are installed.

People are cherished,

Held with honor,

Prayed for,

Never

Put

On the curb.

Blood in the game

Hard to know what the death toll will finally be. What if we added all of it up? What if we all had skin in whatever game is being played? All of it?

Our flag

Will not be

At half mast

For Mogadishu,

231 or more

Killed.

They will mourn

For three days.

Their president

Gave blood today

In solidarity.

He has blood

In whatever game

Is being

Played.

Desert

Thanks, Bill Bippus and Rick Stevens. I am humming.

A friend named

The future as

A horse

With no name.

The future

Is always

Nameless.

We would like

To name it.

In some ways

The future is itself

Always a desert

With no name.

Never mind

The horse.