A Refresher Course

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com
A Refresher Course


Keep. (verb)
She kept her distance from others.

Sleep. (verb)
She slept in cotton jammies.

Sweep. (verb)
She swept the kitchen floor.

Deep. (adjective)
Rivers are not dept.
She leapt the deep river. 

Weep. (verb)
Yes. She wept a torrent of tears.
Ha! Not weepest.
Save to a Medieval poet.

Steep? (adjective)
Hills are not stept.
Jill, and her boon companion, Jack,
climbed the steep hill to fetch
a pail of water..

Creep. (verb) Our English teacher 
crept about the classroom.
But not on little cat’s feet
 like fog.

Creep. (noun) Our English teacher 
teacher is a crept. 
No. But, during 
tests he creeps about. 

What have we learned today?
Nothing of great import, but what our eager 
ears taught us long ago and our fresh minds 
put in proper order.

Go thy merry way then and be kind to all.

j 

Our Destiny

Photo by Mau00ebl BALLAND on Pexels.com
Our Destiny


Sooner or later,
Things what they are,

No matter 
how healthy we seem,

How crisp the mind,

A tipping 
point 
arrives,

A place of apprehension,
Of uncertainty,

Of no going back.

Sooner or later,
Things what they are,

Vision dims,
Sounds muddy,
Balance wobbles.

A place of apprehension,
Of uncertainty,

Of no going back.

Sooner or later,
Things what they are,

Memories melt,
Vocabulary dwindles,
Friends lose touch.

A place of apprehension,
Of uncertainty,

Of no going back.

Sooner or later,
Things what they are.

Muscles weaken,
Weight dissolves,
Doctoring frequent,

A place of apprehension,
Of uncertainty,

Of no going back.

Sooner or later,
Things what they are,

A tipping 
point
arrives.

 j

Cave Art and Progression

Photo by ArtHouse Studio on Pexels.com
Cave Art and Progression


Cooled ashes on a deft fingertip.

Papyrus reeds in Egypt grew.

A goose quill dipped in vessel of ink.

A metal nib.

Gutenberg’s moveable-type press.

A slender fountain pen with reservoir.

A ball tipped roller.

A typewriter with chime.

A personal computer.

Autocorrect. 

Chaucer, howling in his grave.

j

Red-tailed Rescue

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Red-tailed Rescue 


Let's pretend Covid
cannot touch me here.

In my imagination 
there are no mandates, 

or quarantines,  
or masks. 

It’s a place filled with 
delightful and dangerous 

thoughts— 

a hawk of poor vision,
a deep and chilling well, 
an enemy of fright, 

hunted through the night.

j

Mr. Six O’Clock Or So

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com
Mr. Six O'Clock Or So


When an orchard whispers

“The apples will be ripe in October,”

that is God’s absolute truth
and we may put our trust therein.

But, when a man calls to say

“I'll meet you in an hour,”

that is an estimate,
and we would be wise

not to confuse the two.

j

A Modest Request

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on Pexels.com
A Modest Request

When I grow old and weary, 
legs all atremble,
unable to walk far, 

and my garden—

the delightful colors, 
the delicate shapes, 
the delicious scents,

when my garden— 

eyes weak and bleary,
too distant to see,

then please, 
if you will, 

bring my garden to me.

j

Guilt

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Guilt

A storm’s wrath had wrenched
the robin’s nest from the tree above.

Jerry and i, boys of ten or so,
stumbled upon it the next morning.

The mother robin stood her ground,
fluffing her feathers in defiance.

We two, imitators of brave hunters,
executed her with a BB gun and laughed.

Jerry grew up, played college football,
and became a famous California detective.

i went on to teach children our language,
and lay bare my shame in poetry.

 j

God’s Blueprint

Photo by Janez Podnar on Pexels.com
God's Blueprint

To be certain our species
would flourish, 

God

constructed a magnetic 
force within us

so powerful

that when young Men,

stopped by a deep
and rushing flow 

of icy water,

or a gaping, precipitous

chasm

rent in the earth,
 
peered forth

and saw 
comely young Women

on the far side
(picking wildflowers)

God
could be certain,

bridges would be built.

j