As I contemplate
The things for which I’m thankful,
This Thanksgiving Day,
My thought keep on returning,
Almost without fail,
To this grand experiment,
Managing somehow
To maintain its functioning
Despite ill intent
From an elected leader
Lacking heart, and soul, and thought.
“You damned liberal!
I’ll bet you LOVED Obama!”
“You would lose that bet.
He was too conservative.”
Thrill to hot coffee spit-take.
A glorious end
Writ large ‘cross the firmament
Restores perspective
November’s slipping
Quickly into history,
Leaving, in its wake,
A predictable absence
In the forest canopy
My Birthday, surprise,
Artsy opportunity!
A Rorschach in red!
A labor of love
Or, at least, one of duty,
Quickly forgotten
Still provides satisfaction…
If you don’t look too closely.
Today I walked alone,
Silently, among the fallen.
Snowy cold, standing stones
Basking ‘neath the setting sun
Stretching to eternity.
Here among these Legions,
I came across the one
Bearing my mother’s maiden name.
One of many, stretching back
To our very founding;
Fathers, grandfathers and greats.
Not all of whom retired here
To this, once, grand old estate.
Another found, I know, his rest
In a distant mountain stream,
The place he lived his later life,
The place he loved, by far, the best.
I honor them, those grand old men,
My few, among the many,
Not only for their sacrifice;
I honor them, out of love,
And, I suppose, that must suffice.
This delightful meal
Shattering at intervals
By excessive cacklings
Of bored housewives faking mirth.
Three oh one point nine!
Broadcast on all the networks.
Label it Fake News
And some will eat that sandwich
Unaware its their last meal.
Our neighbors may, even yet,
Construct and pay for his great wall
If only to shut him in.
And could you blame them?
Hopefully, in time
When we wake up and appeal
For them to let us exit
They will show us charity
Alien to our leader!
When cheers subside
And mournful sobbing ceases,
All that remain is more mess.
Autumn rains adorn
This boring white county van
Parked beside urban forest
This Election Day
Exercise uncivil rights.
Go drink his cup of coffee
Then cast your vote for the girl.
Shrill
Inarticulate warbles
Muted in passage through walls
And woods.
Anger
Understood by tone
And cadence long before
Any sound clarifies to coherent
Words
Heat
Beat
hasty
Retreat
Words
Pulse
Thrumming temples
Dread descends with every step
Upward to that door
Where home fires burn
Doorknob
Chill beneath palm
Hand lingers
Warming brass
As crass language
And rage harass
His tired dragging ass
Inhalation
Exhalation
Knob turning
Welcome
Home
This is but a task
No more onerous than most
And yet we delay
Month after month after month
Crafting vast struggles from naught
Aroil in Pain 