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Continue reading →: Waiting on Spring
Leaves on the lawn, A few holdovers, Laying low, Filed in the grass, Right where I left off. Spring; that stuttering tease. Michigan thinks About being nice To the daffodils That yawned yellow A week ago. Then I recall The lion and lambness Of March. Take thine ease O Michigan…
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Continue reading →: Another Day
Is this morning any different? I rose as from the dead. Sleep, that shadow of Turning and turning, Tuck dreams in The sheets. * What of this day? I’m awake enough to see The liquid sky above and Snow lightly salting The patio. * Why the stillness? I shift in…
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Continue reading →: Attention Span
When breaks the morning? The squirrels let me know. No coffee for them, pure adrenaline. Up and down the jungle gym, a chattering. Did one flip a grin? The trees tall their tails. Why cross a street, when branches become rails? The sun’s full on, crowning the trees, but all…
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Continue reading →: White Noise
Naked trees, only draped with sound absorbers. A weeks’ worth of snow bands from the Great Lake. In the predawn glow, gray snow rests on the mingled branches reaching to the twigs. The sun’s light contours what’s already sculpted into A tangle of white muscle on the boney limbs.…
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Continue reading →: Leftovers
It’s a mine field. I step into the kitchen, and Everywhere, booby traps. We have pie squared. We have piles of turkey remnants. We have a close encounter Mountain of potatoes waiting For a sculptor to shape it. The homemade cranberry sauce Puckers in a serving bowl. I’ve been stuffed…
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Continue reading →: Thanksgiving Eve
Two turkeys abreast, thawing on a kitchen table. What a pair. Imagine their ghosts having a conversation. “Hi ya, I’m Fred. Ya gotta name der?” “Buckshot, but you can call me buck.” “Sounds like a deer der. You raised by does? Bluah bluah!” “Very funny. No, I was not raised…
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Continue reading →: Vesper
The drops, drip, drip, drip, like a tapping on a shoulder. It’s a soft invitation to turn from all distraction. Late autumn rain before sunrise is a liquid prayer. Such a vesper of the new mercies which roll off the roof.
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Continue reading →: Passing
This too shall pass, white noise driving by slicing through silence. The quiet folds in again and the difference leaves deference. In a gray chair by the window is place. Come, sit by the pane and gather thoughts like each passing car sweeping leaves. What’s your hurry? What’s your worry?…
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Continue reading →: A Blank Page
I was summoned by a blank page. So, I’m filling in the blank. Like walking a plank knowing not its length. Not that I’m blind-folded, but folding nevertheless. Even AI picked the four syllables over nonetheless. Talk about passive writing. Is an empty page white privilege? Does nothing come from…
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Continue reading →: Today
The light fell, Tumbled onto this day. I wasn’t quite Finished with the night. My unadjusted eyes. Tears, those glassy Cataracts of ache, Suspend the river-roll Of a rumbling soul. The morning opens still, And shines on. Another new mercy, Just like yesterday. * “I am the light of…
Gerald the Writer 