0843 A.M.

Not in my morning mind

to step out in the cool air

lift my face to the sun

and walk.

My legs asked to go forward

apace across grass and concrete, 

across a tireless street

to the lake.

My ears searched for bird sounds

was that a distant meadowlark?

wheeling gulls crying?

in the sky.

My eyes roamed all around to see

kayakers slicing through still waters

while placid ducks, posturing geese 

shared the lake.

My skin air-brushed with

breezy light strokes of

wind passing through

the trees.

My morning mind, left

at home, welcomed me

to breakfast and the soft touch

of my kitty’s paw.

“But the beauty is in the walking - - we are betrayed by destinations.”

~ Gwyn Thomas

Forgotten Clothes

sweaters dresses and slacks, 

forgotten, like dust bunnies 

migrated from under beds and dressers 

into closets and drawers ~

hung limply on plastic hangers, 

laid flat in cedar drawers

weighed down by time ~

saved ‘for good’  when 

each day must be a good day.

“You gotta have style. It helps you get down the stairs. 

It helps you get up in the morning,. 

It’s a way of life. Without it, you’re nobody.”

~ Diana Vreeland, columnist and fashion editor

(September 1903 - August , 1989)

Spring Crush

Crumbling leftovers from autumn still sound the same to my boots ~ 

gold brown ground cover for loping, long-earred rabbits donning their spring hideaway colours

“The last dead leaves of fall crackled underfoot, winter-crisp”

~ Neil Gaiman, American Gods