Lady feels liberated. She glides through the hallway. The day’s events sift and fall through her head like fairy dust. Blue carpeting ripples under foot like a rising tide.
TWISTED
THE TORN, TATTERED AMERICAN FLAG LIES ON MY
NEIGHBOR’S DECK NEXT TO THE TWISTED SECTIONS OF
METAL THAT ONCE WERE HIS GUTTER.
TORRENTS OF WATER GUSHED THRU THE ROOF, THE STEADY
DRIPPING OF WHICH I CAN STILL HEAR BETWEEN THE
SHEETROCK AND STUDS.
PEEKING THRU THE REMNANTS OF RIPPED
ROOFING SHINGLES , ARE THE RAFTERS AND JOISTS, EXPOSED
TO A SUN AND SKY THEY NEVER SAW BEFORE.
THE REAR ROOF, RISING FOUR FEET UP THE RIDGE LINE,
WAS TORN OFF FROM ONE END OF THE HOME TO THE OTHER.
AROUND THE CORNER, CARS LAY CRUSHED BY TREES THAT
HAD STOOD PROUD FOR GENERATIONS, NOW RENT UP BY
THE ROOTS AND LAY LIKE FALLEN SOLDIERS ON A
BATTLEFIELD.
THE MUSTY ODOR OF MUD, DUST, WATER AND ROOTS SMELLS
DIFFERENT FROM ANYTHING I HAVE INHALED –
AND LINGERS IN MY LUNGS.
OUR LANDSCAPE AND OUR HOMES HAVE BEEN
TRANSFORMED INTO SOMETHING THAT IS SURREAL AND
UNRECOGNIZABLE.
THE BEWILDERMENT AND REALIZATION THAT A TORNADO
CAN CAUSE SUCH DEVASTATION – IS INCOMPREHENSIBLE —
UNTIL ONE IS WITNESS TO IT.
BUT JUST AS MY NEIGHBOR RAISES THE AMERICAN FLAG AND
SECURES IT IN THE BRACKET — SO WILL OUR TOWN RISE AND
RESTORE ITSELF,
STRONGER THAN BEFORE.
A Light Through Time
For most of my adult life, I would call my parents, but only once a week. Even into my retirement, I had to preserve my sense of independence. But their average age is now over ninety, so our daily phone calls reassure me they are stable and I energize them with my adventures.
Noah and the Carpenter
On Halloween Eve, while Rick littered his front lawn with mock foam tombstones, his former neighbor Chuck stopped to visit. They shook hands. Chuck was close to 50, his once brown hair now peppered with gray. Rick hadn’t seen him in years. “What’s up, man?”
Summer Rain
PAVEMENT PARCHED WITH BLISTERING HEAT
BURNING BENEATH THE SOLES OF MY FEET – TOO HURTFUL NOT TO WEAR
ANY SHOES.
Three Fairy Tales
n our town, legend has it, we are sometimes visited by goblins and fairies not always friendly and tame.
Write Right Away
Her Land
*Originally written for Pawling Public Radio’s “America the Beautiful” poetry presentation
I lay on the land, grass tickling bare toes.
Descendants of descendants of descendants of the first ants to explore the soil
God Is Lovely
We come speaking tongues
Spanglish editions of handwritten love songs
Scribbled fiercely and flung
Into heartbeats
For Lack of a Hat Part II
Lady takes a cursory look around the room; even without direct eye contact she can see the wrinkled faces and craning necks over the high back chairs, stretching toward her… She smiles apprehensively and backs away. She had no intention of making a spectacle of herself. She doesn’t know where that came from. But it did. She was compelled. It must have been the Muzak and the waiting. Continue reading For Lack of a Hat Part II