December 28

Knee Surgery


Would I go back to tell the young me

Not to do what I did?

To get off the three wheeler that flung me

to avoid the roll and the skid?


Is it the decision that formed me?

Scars shaping my future days?

Or is it is the decision that deformed me?

Starting a suture phase.


No I wouldn’t change a decision

I made as a naive youth

Sure I was lacking forward vision

but as adult I achieve truth


Quatrain Poem

November 18

Tsuga canadensis


Where there is now a nascent hemlock stand

A grand hemlock of many years once stood

Should you want to know the story of the land

Stumps are shorthand for rains and winds withstood


(A Wreathed Quatrain)

November 12

“The woods is shining this morning

Red, gold and green, the leaves

Lie on the ground, or fall

Or hang full of light in the air still.”

~ from “Grace” by Wendell Berry


The woods is shining this morning

A little bit less from above

A little bit more from below

First hard frost causing the inversion


Red, gold, and green the leaves

Have finally fallen carpeting

The lawn and last year’s leaves

The gold standing out, gleaming


Lie on the ground, or fall

Into the soft piles of leaves

Surrounded by colors, engulfed

By the scent of transition


Or hang full of light in the air still

From branches you’ve climbed to see

The leaves from afar, like you could

When they clung to the canopy


(A Glosa Poem) inspired by

Grace” by Wendell Berry

November 7



They say this word is obsolete

But I don’t know how that can be

When it creates a thought complete

About the woods surrounding me


(A Redondilla Poem)

(A Spanish Quatrain)

February 4

Super Bowl Sunday


A spectacle of athleticism and division

A source of negativity and derision

Money changing hands both in the field and in the stands.

All on display through the high def television.


For nearly two hours you follow the ball

Downs, catches and rushes you watch them all

The win’s a surprise and the tears in their eyes

Show the many dimensions of football.


(A couple of Quatrain Poems)

January 26

On the occasion of Robert Burns’ 259 birthday yesterday.


My love is like red red roses

Uttered Bobby Burns to she

Newly sprung in June he supposes

Good thing he didn’t say it to me.


I know those new red red roses

Aphids and beetles do assail

While fragrance goes up our noses

They are blitzed by fungus and scale.


Bobby Burns you can keep your rose

I have no interest in the work.

Why is it a red rose you chose?

You didn’t do your homework, jerk.


(A quatrain poem)