A Quiet Night

Stormy seas can’t match
The roiling in my heart, nor
Can a thousand suns

Match the fire in my
Soul. Perhaps a quiet night
Could restore my peace…

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.


Small-Town Saturday Night

It’s been a long week,
Now it’s time to shriek; time to
Cut loose from the noose

And have a little
Fun. Cuz it’s a small town; it’s
Saturday night, and

What else is there to
Do when the world drops off sharp
At the edge of town?

It’s a small town; it’s
Saturday night, and we’re all
Feeling fine tonight.

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.


When once long ago
The world spun around,
There were no sights
And there were no sounds,
But there were plenty of holes
Deep down in the ground.

And way down deep
In those holes in the ground,
Where there were no sights
And there were no sounds,
There were eight tiny groundhogs
Just sniffing around.

When there are no sights
And there are no sounds,
And your home is a very deep
Hole in the ground,
The only way to find anything
Is to sniff around and around.

So these groundhogs sniffed
Around and around,
And they followed a path
That led above ground,
Where the sun shone so bright
That naught could be found.

They scampered back quickly
To their holes in the ground,
Where there were no sights
And there were no sounds,
And vowed never again
To search above ground.

For when you are used to the dark
Of a hole in the ground,
Even a little bright light is
Too much to get round
Without fear of falling
Prey to a hound.

So if, like my friends,
You live below ground,
In a hole with no sights
And very few sounds,
Remember your shades
When you venture above ground.

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.

Sleep Sweet

So long, sweet friend!

Pretty li’l kitty,
Sleep well tonight, free from pain.
Ours has just begun.

Our little Spitfire has gone on to that great big cat tree in the sky. After winning over everyone he met, our little baby kitty succumbed to a mysterious infection and was laid to rest in the cardboard cat bed Cricket made for him in school. A purple petunia marks his grave.

So long, sweet Spitfire. You are already missed.

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.