Retirement Rendezvous Each morning walking through the concrete city streets a misty fog forms I breathe in deeply so the damp wet aroma fills up my body Same each day, walk through the city, city becomes a country forest Trees proliferate with piney fir scented…

Tacked my moonbeams on a shelf What’s left still meandering at the dock Shocked I was able to grasp those whimsical fantasies to put them on lock? Despite the immensely dense fir trees and in light of ocean’s backlogged fog Took a delicate pin, let…

Fir tree fog hangs like a shelf. Damn! how you can hush the night. Moonbeam, dock to me and self— Concrete, canteen, coffee light.  

Rolling over on her pillow as the moonbeam floated in the hushed morning, she smiled her not so usual smile. A new day, she realized and felt strangely free of all the worry of late. No fog greeted her, no wretching stomach, no worries Stretching…

Rage Reigns Bitter man, full of rage, so angry at the world! Your fury rains relentlessly on me. (A cinquain is composed of five lines with syllable count 2/4/6/8/2.)

CUT FRUIT Lighter than the breeze; butterfly wings. Scent on a shelf, vibrant their color. Fir faced, little moonbeam in the day.  Like a fog they consume your sight. Hush! Concrete the secret, damn fool! Dock Your Self. Canteen the coffee when hunting the butterfly.

“A Simple Copper Thing” by Mandy Austin Cook they’re just pennies I agree they’re lovely! shiny little copper pretties thrown into fountains an abundance of them can be a blessing but it’s not the genie answer to  necessity of spirit for whether there are two…

Image courtesy of Pixabay   Staring through a window of the canteen on the dock, I saw the Fir tree in the corner; It was that time of the year again And the Christmas decorations looked inviting;   ‘Damn! It’s cold!’ I thought as the…

Late mornings I will often lose myself in the massive Douglas Fir outside my window after a hush-like fog has burned off. The supple Japanese maple in front rotates the illumination of its branches from penetrating sunbeams as part of its daily dance recital. The…

The fir wood is barely discernible through the fog, as we sit sipping coffee on the dock. There is a hush settling around us, but for the frogs, as, slowly, a moonbeam breaks through. It trips across the unbroken surface of the lake, dancing on…