Hour 12: Monster Shoes Death Trap

It’s fun to imagine having sequins for my eyes, but

Not without purple glitter in my hair,

Like a demented puppeteer.


I’m considering holographic shoes with roller blades, and

Some jellybeans for my shades, 

Sort of colorful cascades

Of rainbow


Hour 11: A California Motel

Traveling across the Yolo causeway,

I’ve had cool wind in my hair.

But have never given colitas a care.


I’ve stood in a doorway

And glanced over the bay. 

I’ve heard a mission bell

And become drunk off Zinfandel.


I’ve been to a California motel

And heard an echo from a seashell.

It was such a lovely place

With a comforting embrace.

Hour 10: If I Ever Lose My Tongue, Blame the Clothespin

Gray stillness enveloped the sky

Everything calmed; halted

Even the wind stopped breathing


Playing in the backyard with clothespins

Clipped them to the end of my fingers

Wondered what they’d feel like on the tip of my tongue


So I did.

It hurt.


That was the first time I heard a tornado siren




Mom flung upon the screen door

Yelling at me to get inside!





Paralyzed with indecision

With a clothespin pinching my tongue.

Hour 9: The Host Has Muted You

Online teaching created strange experiences

Our fears covered in masks, surgical and virtual facades

Insecurities buried in bottles of hand sanitizer

Zoom meetings, Brady Bunch style,

Lit up our names like little fireflies

Hour 7: Season of Static Electricity

I would like most to be

Static electricity


To add spark to life

Simple steps create

Tiny jolts


With each shock,

Laughter grows and stops

And starts again


With each new spark

Hair stands on end.








Hour 6: Nature’s Symphony

Cobalt blue whisps through the clouds

Napthol crimson swirls through the breeze

The nectar of purple skyflower whispers to the morning guests

Azure gold and black bees flitter from bloom to bloom

Red-Lored parrots snack on Sugar Hackberry fruits

Ruby-throated hummingbirds dart and dash among the hibiscus blossoms

Little Yellow butterfly takes flight among the gardenia bushes

A gentle rain bathes the sparrows

Hour 5: Before Winter Comes

Sister Red and Brother Bear, please slow down.

You’re too fast for me.


Quiet, child, says Sister Red. We have much to do

Before winter comes.

The leaves are changing. The trees are bare.

Soon the sunlight won’t even care.


Sister Red and Brother, please slow down. I can’t keep up.


Hurry along, says Brother Bear. We have much to do

Before winter comes.

The berries are gone. The creek has dried.

We have miles to go to reach wayside.


Sister Red and Brother Bear, please slow down. I can’t see you.

The leaves changed, and the creek has dried.

Winter has come, and the sunlight doesn’t even care.


Sister Red and Brother Bear, don’t slow down.

I’ll meet you there.

Hour 4: The Devil in the Drapes

It took years for me to know that you were not real.

Instead of brimstone and fire, you were made of light shining through the top of my curtains and my imagination.

Every night before I closed my eyes, you peered down on me.

Every night, I prayed that God would make me good.

Every day, I knew that you made me bad; 

No Sunday School lesson or offerings to the white plastic miniature chapel would absolve my sin.

Then I learned about light and dark and shadows. 

I learned about grace and salvation and forgiveness.

It took years for me to learn that you are not real. 

Hour 3: Nobody Told Me About Babies and Puppies

Back in the day

Of babysitting and teen lines and friendship pins

I slept my mornings away

Partied my nights with a variety of sins

No responsibility

No cares in my teenage life of sensibility


Nobody told me about babies and puppies


Babysitting, Big Bucks/No Whammies, and brownies

Living the life on an easy chair

Baby sleeps soundly,

Assaulted into  reality with puppy poop like a nightmare

Brownie fights stomach profoundly

Chocolate loses; brownie throw-up everywhere

Baby wakes with an unhappy dance

Because he just pooped his pants


Nobody told me about babies and puppies


As I begin to clean the baby up,

I hear a terrifying slurping noise.

The puppy is licking my brownie throw-up.

I throw up again with unflattering poise.

Mom walks in to witness this gallant moment,

I ask, “Are you ready to hear my dog-poop-brownie-throw-up story?”


Nobody told me about babies and puppies.

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