as winter shed her overcast
the sun began to show
and suddenly a knoll of grass
appeared amid the snow
the withered blades lay all askew
like soldiers in defeat
but as the yellow army grew
the snow began retreat
winter’s legions left the land
and rushed down to the shore
and even snowmen turned and ran
for spring had won the war
(repost from 2/17)
as of late
i meditate
when life
becomes a mess
i close my eyes
and visualize
the road
to happiness
to play this game
i have to name
the hills
i come upon
and then i try
to rectify
the problem
and move on
and when at last
all hills are passed
and i have found
my way
sometimes i find
a little sign
saying
write a poem today
spring is in the air
tho the wind shows that winter
still hides in the trees
–photo by my son aaron
And what can be said about
When there was no when?
There was no here here
And there was no then then.
There’s nothing more to say;
I think this better end
Before there’s then then here
Or maybe here here then.
i woke up one morning
and much to my surprise
everybody’s eyes
were my eyes
and i knew that
from that day on
i would be kind
to everybody
i woke up one morning
Wet icicles drip steadily
Outside my bay window,
Yet they bring to mind
no apt metaphor today.
drip, drip
My calendar says that
My soulmate passed on
Seven years ago today,
But I’m over it…sort of.
drip, drip
Damn you icicles!
May the north wind
freeze you solid again!
Please stop dripping.
Please stop.
Well, I’m off to the hospital this morning for surgery. At 63, there’s no guarantees that I won’t flatline on the table, but I’m in pretty good shape, so I think I’ll be fine.
I told my kids that if I did croak, I would consider myself lucky to exit so easily. We don’t all get out of here without suffering, but we all have to go. I thought I’d drop this pic of my granddaughter Milliana and I in the back yard with another friend. I’ll be bock, lol.
conifer sentries
watch over the coming of
dawn in the forest
–photo by me
highly polished lakes
cradled among verdant hills
reflect a great yen
the dreamer seeks clarity
hidden among obstacles
–photo by me
Snow falls silently outside
And the still of the morning
Is pleasantly preserved.
I stare into the endless
Swirling eddies of steam
Wafting up from the hot
Mahogany, life-giving
Ambrosia before me.
A sip, and I am lost in the
burnished, heady brew.
The starter spins — nothing.
I take another glorious sip.
More spinning–nothing.
There’s enough light now
To see the deer feeder
Out the back window;
I’m glad it’s empty again.
One more sip now, and —
Vrooooom!
Now where did I put that
Bag of feed for the deer?
michaeljordahl 