Sidewalk Performer

Summer’s

last hurrah in

the grasshopper’s journal.

A leap here and there, it’s time to

move on.

History Lesson

Rocky

shoreline; the ships

are warned to stay away.

In times of war, the lighthouses

grow dark.

Keep It To Yourself

Knuckles 

turn white holding

onto the steering wheel.

We only talk if it's about

the road.

The Year Fall Came Before Summer

Gray hat

of fog settles

into the pines. The day

narrows. I still smell the footsteps

of rain.

Shortages

Stories.

Have disappeared.

Empty shelves without books.

Words written in the dust. Have been

erased.

Day by Day

 

living

in disrepair

the time that's slipped away

more valuable than anything

I've kept 

"Go Forth and Multiply"

Season

of the potholes—

               the darkness deepens them.

If you miss one, the other will

shake you.

January Forecast

Bearing 

the weight of ice

and yet another snow,

the trees bend and snap with nowhere

to go.

                      From The New Book of Genesis:

                                Let The Chaos Begin

Yard signs

a week after

the election--you know

who won by the names of those still

standing.

Prognosis

Silent

illness. We keep

secrets within ourselves

as if that can save us from what

we fear.

Announcement

The past

three cinquains are

courtesy of the site

word daily. Every day's a new

challenge.

Note: The word "every" sounds like three syllables but technically, it's a two-syllable word.

Absence of Interdigitation:

Couple

walks side-by-side

through the autumn leaves,

no holding hands while they text each

other.

POST MERIDIEM

There is 

no 12 p. m.

be it noon or high noon,

Gary Cooper's film with spot-on

timing.

"Writing is like breathing, it's possible to learn to do it well, but the point is to do it no matter what."

~Julia Cameron 

"If you wish to be a writer, write."

~Epictetus

Enchiridion

Notebook

with blank pages,

first time opening it

the spine creaks like old doors and new

writing.

2024

Gray skies

like November

in an election year,

we vote on the promises of

more lies.

Deep-Fried And Sugar-Coated

So this

    is donut day.

      What once felt fulfilling

    leaves me empty inside, my eyes

glazed shut.

THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN

Censors

suppressing our

journalists are akin

to libraries having their books

removed.

 

Limestone Hill Trail

Hiking 

to the summit,

I find a bench and let

the oak tree's shadow reshape my

journey.

Symptoms

Ocean 

waves to and fro...

Like seashells I only 

hear the sloshes of this Covid

earache. 

The Memory Unit

Today

she hears Ol' Blue

Eyes. Let her go on then

dancing with her invisible

partner.