November 28



An archaic term

Old-fashioned, antiquated

Yet we witness living examples daily

On television, on radio

In big white houses and small suburban homes

Perhaps not obsolete but modern

Perhaps not irrelevant but relevant

Perhaps not anachronistic but timely

We need a new way to describe daily horror

Why not use an outmoded term

Describing modern behavior perfectly?


(A Free Verse Poem)

November 26

Sunday Sounds


The game is on in the background

The woodstove clicks warming the home

Soft padding as the kitty roams

Dominoes clatter marking next round

Loved ones chatter, glasses clinking

A great Sunday to my thinking.


(A Spanish Sestet or Sextilla)

November 25

Sunday Games


Playing games on Sunday afternoon

No one will win anytime soon

Twelve more rounds of this game to play

Keeping our dots incognito

Until our turn at dominoes

Family chatter causing delay


(A Spanish Sestet or Sextilla)

November 24

Practice Makes Permanent


Visualize letting go

Egolessness is there

Sending, taking daily

Samsara evasion

Everything’s workable

Loving kindness to all


Om – open mind relax

Future is the presence

Yielding to compassion

Om – relinquish control

Understand discomfort

Reflection is the way


Meditation practice

Ahimsa is the goal

Invite self-awareness

Testing, acting, healing

Resisting judgement

It is always practice


(A Spirit’s Vessel Poem)

November 23



So clever are these furry squirrels

Tails twitch, swirl, gathering food

So rude, around branches they twirl

Hurling leaves, nuts from altitude

Barking with attitude, spunky

Chunky things, feeder invaders

Compost raiders, birdseed junkies

Charm school flunkies, hawk evaders.


(A Wreathed Octave)

November 22

Burnt Sienna


A new box of crayons waxy points undented

Deep in my mind the fragrance is cemented

It’s wasn’t until I saw a bald cypress tree in fall

That I had any idea what burnt sienna was at all

Detours out of thick black lines once lamented

In reality my vocabulary augmented


My world is colored by crayolas pigmented

Names partnered with hues gave me the wherewithal

To precisely describe my world big and small

Into my memory these colors are cemented.


(A Sonnetina Quatro)

November 21

Taxodium distichum


You think it’s dead but instead it’s going dormant

In summer scenes it looks evergreen, so tricky


Not a Christmas tree you see it’s deciduous

In winter’s glare it’s completely bare of needles


Unlike other trees it sends up knees for breathing

Found in swampy spots and parking lots it adapts


Round top is skyward bound, leaves cover ground gently

Bumper lode of spherical cones explode softly


A tree is waters dark and large parks, majestic

A tree of mystery and beauty, Bald Cypress


November 20



Holidays roll around

Anticipated but always more quickly

Than you thought, and with them

Come an avalanche of rituals, customs, stories.

What is your tradition?


In all the chaos and stress

And all of the change-up of daily routine

What we do the same each year calms us in the chaos.

My calm is making cranberry orange bread from scratch

Hand chopping, hand mixing, warm and heart warming.


(A Sonnetina Cinque)