things in my cabin
hang neatly on the wall
contentment complete
work
Rush Hour
rush hour traffic
a ‘blader’ zips past
gloating
Plans
cleaning her windows
she destroys a well spun web
best-laid plans go south
A Life of Ease
carefree vagabond
enjoys the free wildflowers
never pulls a weed
rests in the shady woods
never plants a tree
Practice Makes Perfect
aggressive salesman
beams into his mirror
practicing truthful
Moving
full boxes everywhere
but are we coming or going?
we can’t remember
Frozen
ice fishermen
huddle over their dark circles
like frozen sculptures
The Future
a mother plants corn
her baby on her back
the future in her hands
Our Little Clock
baby’s tiny hands
her sweet round face, her alarms
our little clock
Steaming
cook seasons the soup
her starched apron hanging limp
as the herbs she adds
.
(Summery thoughts on a cold November day)