Spring at the Old Summer Cabin

The door creaks open
leaks air stained by stale

the wrong scamper here
feisty mice chitter on the floor

a squirrel’s fox-hued tail
whiskers circlets at my feet.

I wish these interlopers
into natural nests while

I re-wind the mobius strip
reel back my missing.

Morning lights a shadow
a lump of non-lustrous fur

somber as a bastard child
mourning jumps the bar.

quick watercolor by Sue

North of Summer, Poetry and A Near Year of Tumblewords Blog are available at Lulu Publishing

Secondhand Dreams

Liberated visions
dance in space
like dollars in
an air machine

consigned to
distant realms
when dreamers
traded rainbow coats
for dowdy gowns
of realism.

Digital Photo: Showers of May Flowers

Year of Tumblewords Blog and North of Summer, Poetry as well as other books and images are available at Lulu Publishing

Rainbows and Reunions

Many of my high school/college classmates meet for an informal monthly potluck lunch. Yesterday was the May day meet and several showed up for the first time.

The obvious advantage of growing up in a once-small town is that you often hear, for the first time, stories of your family being told by others. Some of our group have passed on but shared memories create laughter and camaraderie among those who might not have been close in earlier years. We fret about those who face health concerns and rejoice that our group is still countable in double digits.

Last night I met online with a resurrected poetry workshop that fell through the cracks several years ago and was pleased to be re-grouped!

E-mail brought messages from distant friends and a trip to the hardware store brought me face-to-face with a person I'd not seen in years.

May, also a-bloom with family birthdays, has been a month of reunions for which I am grateful!

Digital Photo by Sue, framed in Digital Image Suite.

Near Year of Tumblewords Blog and North of Summer, Poetry are available at Lulu Publishing.

Wii, Mii and They

I might have spoken too soon regarding Wii bowling with grandkids.

Last weekend I Wii'd with the fave 4-year- old and faced an uphill battle. It was his first time and he didn't give a rip about form. Matter-of-fact, I gasped when he threw the ball overhand one time and high-fived me when the pins scattered. More concerned about form, I worked very hard to garner an almost tie game.

I'll have to make a choice soon. Practice more OR be whupped by a short, young alpha male.

Today, I read about a man, who at age 106, still bowls in league and...well, you can read the rest of the story here. Amazing! It gives me hope. When form is gone, function remains, maybe.






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