Olden Golden


You know it’s the gold
when heart skips a flip
knowing only possibility
of post past future
meeting again
in the light of real
like not/or nothing before
or everything
ever imaginable
beyond ever dreamed, perhaps
it helps to remember
love only is that other place
those shoulda done vanish
in the land of love
let yesterday be dead
it is gone
it is home we
all want
we all find
with/in time.

I’m Full of Glee My Little Chickadees!


Teething on a celery stalk
sitting in a tree
brother and sister together
joyful playing autumn leaves

some gold in these golden years
these many pictures held in time
as my own fade in memories
old, so very old
though pictures remain
the joy is lost
and found again
in my little chickadees
fully alive and growing
into whom I can not know

the snow falls thick and fast
soft and gentle

the fleece is white as snow
bountifully the garden grows

yes didn’t I have
my Springtime in the Rockies
snow melt bath
embrace warmth of sun

for now
have I my chickadees

What’s to Love?


When a teacher humiliates you in front of a class
and makes all your classmates hate you because
they have to stay until you finish doing
what you are obviously not able to do.

Ah Fraiser TV show
and artists extraordinar
who mirror human problems
otherwise not seen
by the perpetrator

and there we were
who the teacher who the student

today was a crowded day
so many loves
here not here
brings laughter
“I’m alone now but never lonely.”

River Music


Truly, it’s hearing the voice
singing from the heart with
the whole being that makes
music so accessible.

More’s the pity the pity
singing of pain via nasal
thus shared pain instead
of turning it into joy.

By far, to me, most offensive
voices of grown adults
singing with
Teenybopper voice.

A Buddhist business owner
gives workers a 2 day axe notice.
Is he a bad rap
for Buddha?

Call it the laughing song.

“You poor dear,”
she messages her younger self
reflected in the drapless picture window
dark outside bare ceiling light bulb lit
with her 80 year old right hand
she moves her cheek
back to the cheek bone
and there she was
naively innocent
of what was yet
to come….

she begins with yesterday’s morning
same as today, Dawn
Rosy Dawn with Azul Blue
soon touching her horizon
to begin:

Call it the laughing song.

There’s a River journey to write
to ponder up over yonder
he awakens
cold water splashes face
steps out the front door
once again amazed
feels wow

for what is a few hundred miles
nay, perhaps even thousands
when thoughts open to
stretching and tugging
will Music and River
hear me now?

I can not know I can not say
my deep rose colored orb awaits
encircled of Bear Mountain
(shall I bring her along?)

please don’t say
she’s too far off her rocker
(it’s only one room away)

the question is music
and where the flowers went
after the dance was over
after the ball turned blue

“If it can not be sung
don’t say it.”

“If it can not be love
don’t pass it.”

“I’ll be there
before the last
pit-pat falls.