No one ever booked a flight with the aim to miss it Often passengers miss it Due to oversleeping, traffic delay and misplaced ticket   The taxi driver came to me late Reason for making it late to the airport   In a far-away country,…

There are very few poems about air travel, even though there are a lot about driving, train travel, and subway commuting. Your prompt this hour is to write a poem about a plane trip.

Always looking for a miracle product. The Denman brush works for some. All Natural is the motto we tote. No Sulfates No Parabens or Hairpins T-shirts work best if you “Plop”. Or maybe the L.O.C. method. (Lotion-Oil-Cream) Oil the scalp and roots, but not the…

To those who care for others are a servant of the heart. To hold another’s sorrow be it close or far apart.   To go beyond the border and never to say no. To go the extra mile not letting the pain show.   To…

They exist We exist They wither So do we Masters we are Though they determine If we live or die Intrinsic to humanity Yet we destroy We devour without thought These lives Long lived Yet young We are very much alike What happens to one…

“The land knows you even when you are lost.” ~ Robin Wall Kimmerer Rising with the sun, I give hommage to this day. With the grass full of dew, I relish in the cool comfort as I garden, working the soil and working my soul…

Please, take what you need don’t give in to greed someone anywhere down to one glass of milk there drink what you need here another, naught to wipe baby’s rear take only what’s needed warnings, be heeded what if you, running about find all H20…

After we cross the river, past one of the electric company’s plants and the tombstones of industry – rusted rail cars banked to disused tracks, a morgue of old trailers in the lot of the Super Flea – the winding road is walled on one…

If you ever feel lost don’t forget where you are. This earth is your home with its guides near and far.   You can follow the river, or look to the sun. See the way the grass blows. Follow deer as they run.   Wherever…

His hands loved the soil, the way it felt was a caress. His eyes loved the flowers He used the colors to create the soil a dress. Trees, majestic, soaring high or squat, hunkered low, were his absolute favorites. He loved the fast growing pine…