Home Alone
I’ve always lived with
someone—
family, roommates, sisters
and then my husband.
Years ago, when our house
flooded,
Hubby moved in with the
kids
while I made things livable.
For a few months,
I had a taste of living
alone.
I found it a little creepy
at nights.
But I didn’t feel lonely.
I kept busy fixing our house
and maintaining the
dailies.
And I became more grateful
for my Constant Companion
and that I’m never truly
alone.
Home is Where His Heart Is
After suffering his second
pontine stroke,
when my hubby was recovering
in rehab,
he mentioned to a nurse how
nice it will be
in Heaven and that he
looked forward to it.
They put him on
antidepressants.
He wasn’t depressed,
though.
He doesn’t complain about
all he lost
and how little he can do
now.
He keeps himself busy on
the computer.
We eat three meals together
every day.
He likes to worship at our
local church
and visit our daughter and
son in Arizona.
But I know Home is where
his heart is.
Home
My bestie and I have
different views of home.
She lived in the same
house for seventy plus years,
the same house her parents
and grandparents lived in.
When a woman she worked
for died and willed her a house,
I suggested she move in
there since the house if very nice.
She looked at me as if I suggested
killing her alpacas.
“This my home,” she said,
with great conviction.
I grew up in the same
house for eighteen years
and couldn’t wait to get
out and see the world.
I have lived in three
states, and traveled to all fifty,
three other continents and
several foreign countries.
“Oh,” I said, “To me, home
is where the toothbrush is.”
The Nature Center at Butler Corner
A forest of ponderosa
pines
swaying in the breeze.
Hiking trails peppered
with pinecones
The fragrance of earthiness
The crackling of twigs
Blue skies and bluebird
songs
Cool air and prickly oak
brush
The shouting and laughter
of children
The story trail, picnic
tables
Weaving studio, alpacas
and goats
Big barking dogs, honking
geese
The gazebo, nature center
building
The old-fashioned schoolhouse
And my tall, thin friend
who has lived there since
childhood
in the two-story house
her family occupied for a
century.
I appreciate her
willingness and effort
to share her riches with
the community.
Thank You to Poetic Asides
For Robert, not Bob
Who does a fine job
To make a safe place
To poem in this space
For poets, all kinds
With brilliant, fine minds
Who play nice and fair,
Encourage and share
For poems they create
Of love and of hate
Todays, tomorrows
Of joys and sorrows
Creativity
Humor, esprit
Curiosity
Of great worth to me
A Thanksgiving Poem
Thank You
For family,
Friends, food, clothing, shelter
A quiet small town to live
in
And a restful heart in
You.
The appreciate form by
Earl Parsons. 24687
Tea and Biscuits
Sis, our niece and I had a boat ride
on Loch Neagh, UK’s largest lake.
The boat pilot was very friendly
and taught us about eel fishing.
He surprised us when he
pulled up to a remote inlet
and led us to an old fishing hut
amongst the birch, ash and oak.
All three of us had a good laugh later
when we compared notes.
We all had imagined being murdered
and our bodies never found.
But he served us tea and “biscuits”.
That’s something very UK.
That was the fourth out of five times
we had tea and sweets that day.
