Reverse Nostalgia

What was ‘it’
that was better back then?
Back when?  Better how?
What about now?

Forget the virus
of course.  Really
what could be worse
than that?

But then I think
maybe it’s better not to tempt fate
with dumb questions.

Seriously,
wouldn’t it be wiser to pick one good thing
and concentrate on that?

What would ‘that’ be?
I don’t know.
There must be something,
some moment(?)

That’s it!
That moment
when ‘remembering’ quit
and ‘just being’ began…

That’s the plan
Just as I am.

In the Early Morning Sun

The hillside is a sampler of green.
From forest to fern to emerald and kelly.
Twenty-four names plus the shading of each
side by side in harmony and the ones overlooked
by limitations of imagination and vision. All in all,
it is a living potpourri of Spring    …   more than eye
can conceive in a glance. Even the ones aesthetics say
will clash enjoy a lovely rapport and it is only April.
Just think of the radiance Summer will bring..

Not Guilty

It is a shame, a crying shame
the way things happen,
unplanned, un-orchestrated…
they just happen
and they can turn a day
upside down.

Pixels matter,
a minute space they take
but that space can make or break
a web site..  And that thought
was the beginning of a really bad day.

In trying to explain the dynamics of design,
a title went out that should not have.
It has generated undue attention,
So, I just thought I’d mention…
Not Guilty.

We Are Vines

Before forsythia
spills its color in the wind,
and the moon turns envious
of its gold,

mountains stand their stead,
stern and stately cold.
They peak above the mist
for even stone
seeks sun.

Discombobulated

Birdsong or something like it
filigrees the mist that surrounds us.
Everything is ambiguous.

The houses fade into the fog.
Are they really there?

Everything is a question..
Nothing is certain,

As if even gravity
is shirking its responsibility.

It seems possible in this new accord
that at any minute we may begin
To tilt and fall upward.

 

Reasonable Doubt

The moments have lost their newness;
the days drag on.
Money grows as moldy as time…
We’re stuck in a rut.

The voice that once thrilled me
is an affront to my ear…
It becomes the faucet that you didn’t
fix…drip, drip, drip.

We are fish out of water.
I barely remember those days
when I was the light
in your honey-brown eyes

Or the time I vowed
I could live happy in a cave
as long as it was with you
and here we are in our castle

confined. The walls, ever shrinking.
For what is this punishment?
For taking it all for granted?
For wanting too much?

Look what we’ve  done
with our blessings. Let’s begin
again..and this time let’s not forget
how precious I am.

 

This is strictly tongue in cheek and meant to be a reminder to use this time wisely
and to cherish what you hold dear.