#13 Storm Chaser

Deferring to single mother

Though the work was similar

Now maternally unemployed

I watch Twister too many times


Six grandchildren later

I am the meteorologist

Providing forecasts and

Confirming normal patterns


Despite overcast behaviors

Major events thus far avoided

There is no talk of possible

Thunder lightening flooding


My tornadoes barely survived

My children now parents

I can still see the pickup

Lifted by the Twister

#12 Hobbit Hair

No one said anything about

My Bilbo Baggins perm

Because they can’t remember

What my hair had been


I am the listener

Little attention to me

How are you?  they ask

Without waiting for answers


I reach into my pocket

Searching for the Ring

Hoping for a new obsession

To make my life an adventure


Alas there is no ring

No quest to move me from

This soft sagging armchair

A volcanic Mount Doom

#11 Assisted Living

Ring a bell and someone comes

Push a button to invite a hello

How are you?  they ask


Doorways large accommodate

All those collected years

Rolling into the shower


Puzzles abound on card tables

Holidays are happily posted

Birthdays are announced


Ladies flirt with cookies

While men account the wars

Grandchildren visit Saturdays


A fortunate soul will not wake

Sliding away without assistance

Now watching the others prepare

#10 Black Lives Matter

Be honest

Learn all stories

Act to change

Care for others

Keep moving forward


Let others speak

Invite strangers in

Volunteer to action

Evolve your thinking

Search for truth


Make yourself useful

Attend to problems

Think for yourself

Try possibilities


Risk being brave

#9 Faithless

Believe in something even

When it’s Winter

Spring brings the miracle

Of faith understood


Summer is almost too much

A long pregnancy waiting

For Autumn and the harvest

Yet Winter still brings doubt


Faithless despite yesterdays

Todays and tomorrows returning

Requiring infinite reassurance

We find little peace in the now

# 8 remembering green

Too many to count and name

Spend a day out there looking

Wonder at green that signals

The beginning and end of things


New life hopeful at the start

Buds and sprouts a gentle hue

Then failing flesh and mold

Suggests doom and decay


Heed the waning of green

As a warning that our Mother

Will indeed purge herself

Of our manmade sickness


Should green become a memory

It shall be too late

How do we tell our children

That there was green

#7 Shoulda Been

Red felt cowboy hat

Double holster holding two cap guns

After smoke the smell lingering


White stitching around the brim

The hat resting on by back

Covering my five-year old self


I saw no cowgirls

No politically correct ladies

On horseback ready to ride


Women were in saloons or

Canning vegetables back

At the ranch


I shoulda been a cowboy

Or a mountain man tending

To my bountiful whiskey still


But alas no one noticed

The cowboy in this girl

She faded to chasing boys


Curling her hair

Hanging up her guns

The red felt hat forgotten

#6 Widow Time

The old gals speak of three years

I see them in the cemetery planting geraniums

I need to water mine


This in-between happens to those left behind

Change of life that begins when a life ends

There are no hormones at play


That first year was boundless

No days of the week or hours of the day

Only the daily reminder that he’s gone


Friends asking how you are not waiting to hear

Protecting them you lie and say you’re getting on

Only those who know don’t ask


A second year offers routine

Cleaning out, giving away, changing numbers

The business that death offers


Now one year to go before another change

The old gals don’t tell what to expect

Trusting them you settle in


A new hairdo and maybe remove the ring

Not looking for a replacement

But getting ready to let go again

#5 Roommate

Warm puppy head rests on her neck

Almost planned they sigh in unison


She reaches to slide a free hand

Down fawn-colored baby fur


They will sleep until dark when

Stars shine without human challenge


A quick late walk outside for relief

Beneath a Universe of wonder


A slow morning allows more time

To understand each other

#4 A Sultry Saturday

With good intentions

Christian ladies set up

Craft tables in the

Church parking lot


Below in the cemetery

A family waits to bury Leo

Perhaps a quick look at

Handmade items for sale


Beneath blue tent mourners pray

The vault truck idles in view

As the grave digger writes

Yet another poem