The Poetry Marathon

Working Hands

You can tell a man’s worth

Not by the change in his pocket

But by the skin on his hands

And the lines in his face

Men who can save for the future

Hire hard-handed men

To do their labor as they

Move numbers across a desk

Men with leathery worn fingers

Broad and hard at the edges

From digging and pounding have

Hands immune to the world

These hands of working men

Work for money to

Buy the blue sailboat

Pay the lumberyard debt

For a man’s worth must be

Gathered and displayed

Shown off to each other

To be acknowledged

TobeTT  # 13

After

I became cleaner after he died

Allowing forever paint chips

To loosen and be swept

Human smells creeping out

Through windows, doors ajar

Leaving constellations of dust

Autonomous universes

Home to beings who do no harm

Recycling even bad thoughts

Into tulips

TobeTT  #12

Boom Done

Dropping dead is not that easy

It’s all in the timing

Circumstances being just so

You can’t be sitting and drop dead

Lingering on the floor doesn’t count

It’s all in the landing

Arriving to the ground dead

I’ve seen it done and trust me

It’s not for the faint of heart

TobeTT  #11

Silent Nights

Spring has aged into summer

New greens fading now solstice hues

Dark holes between layers of leaves

Remain and stare back

Evening sun lightens the mood

As the inevitable is coming

With each visit the sun wanes

Creatures shift their watch while

Sounds soften as birds are mute

Once filling the air

Now crickets seem silent

Bats have gone with fireflies

Remember back to summer evenings

When life relayed itself with audible surety

Listen to what has been lost.

TobeTT  # 10

Saving Boots

They’re still in the barn

His dozens of worn boots

Waffle stompers they’re called

Look it up

When in Alaska

I discovered old boots

Would become planters

Boots still working

While saving his boots

He was feeling

Both honored and

Thinking me crazy

This one style boot family

Size 10 Field & Stream

Allowed for that broken toe

On his left foot

Having earned their keep

I will haul them to the yard

Spray inside and out

With the garden hose

Planting each with flowers

I’m tempted to lay them

At random graves in the cemetery

Where he had dug for fifty years

TobeTT  # 9

The Mushroom Suit

Now I lay me down to rest

This mushroom suit will look the best

They put me only three feet down

To leave me here then went to town

I had to die I was quite old

There’s no regrets I was quite bold

My life was large I got around

My stories will indeed be bound

These mushrooms chew and eat bad stuff

Our toxic world has made things rough

I didn’t want to leave a mess

To take up room in a big old dress

So here I lay and start to blend

Into the earth I’ll never end

My word to you you’re gonna go

So plant no junk just loving glow

TobeTT  # 8

Grandma’s Trees

Two pears for the sisters

A crab for the boy

Three purples for the triplets

And a maple for Leroy

The pear trees flowered early

The crab tree not so much

All purples were together

But the maple had the touch

The crab tree was in trouble

Pears’ blooms were first rate

The purples lasted longest

Leroy’s maple looked just great

August leaves peaked true green

All but crab enjoyed the look

Leroy’s maple hinted orange

The first season in the book

Grandma ever hopeful

She would wait another year

And give the crab a special brew

And pray the leaves appear

Over years the trees grew taller

When the cousins gathered here

To sit beneath the crab’s deep shade

And feel their Grandma near

TobeTT  #7

Shotgun Riders

The rusty old pick-up

Holding up ladders

Is parked behind the barn

Worn tool belt on the floor

Buckets with brushes rest

On paint splattered seats

After he died they came

To my kitchen table

Each remembering their

Time as his shotgun rider

To unload, to work, to pack-up

Always talking about the game

Autumn setting up at deer camp

Chores completed with precision

They sat at his table to share

Beer, smoke, tell tall tales

Of youth, women, near-misses

Laughter connecting them

Decades passed while

He and the old truck kept on

Shotgun riders came and went

Now belonging to myths retold

At my kitchen table they sit

Next to his chair and weep

TobeTT # 6

Cookie Moon

Cookie moon a golden sliver

Dark chocolate eclipse

Smells like Grandma’s kitchen

Loaded with comfort

First bite chewed quickly

Lingers between teeth

Bite the dark side of the moon

Save the bright side

For twinkling chilled milk

TobeTT  #5

Front Door Nester

It sat upon the front door light well made

Needing to move the roost before the eggs arrived

The human carried the empty nest to the barn

Settling it down on a rough hewn beam

Instructing the mother-to-be kindly yet firmly

To find a more convenient place for the children

Overnight the nester built a new grand liar

Straw and mud anchored to the same black lamp

Resigned she was allowed to stay as the human

Studied robin gestation and maiden flight

The doorway remained dark four weeks

Using the old porch door an inconvenience

Respectfully observed the babies arrived

Fed by a proper mother working full time

Feathers filled in on popping heads

Exposed wide mouths lusted for food

It would be a Friday the human surprised

Grieved the empty nest

TobeTT  #4