December 29, 2022

And I Die…Don’t Cry

If by a bear I’m attacked

On a gorgeous out and back

And I die…Don’t cry

If on the open road practicing skills

On my motorcycle for ultimate thrills

And I die…Don’t cry

If walking on a path through the woods

And an old tree and a breeze do me in good

And I die…Don’t cry

If playing around in a river’s water white

Filled with adrenaline and delight

I die… Don’t cry

If on my snowboard I hit the wrong edge

And careen off a steep ledge

And I die…Don’t cry

If bike, boat, boots or board was a part

of the stopping of my heart

When I Die… Don’t Cry

Take comfort that I was in my happy place

and would’ve chosen no other time and space

So I died? Don’t Cry!

But if while sitting in an office chair

In the foul blue glow of computer glare

I die…then, then you may cry.

December 13


Not All Who Wander are Lost


Not for the exercise or a goal

All for the release of the static

who knew I would become addicted

Wander til the ache is in my soul

Are the results ever dramatic

lost only in thoughts unrestricted


(A Bumper Sticker Poem)

Bumper Sticker Poems – a form I created, inspired by cento and golden shovel poetry, with the following guidelines:

  • Using a bumper sticker as inspiration use the words in the bumper sticker as the first word in each line of the poem
  • The theme of the poem may or may not have anything to do with the message of the sticker
  • Title should be the words of the bumper sticker
  • Should be rhymed
  • 9 syllable lines
  • Number of lines depends on number of words on the bumper sticker

November 19



Two roads diverged in a wintery wood

They will converge again with different tales

One trail to the creek, one between hardwoods

One should keep your feet dry, boulders to scale

Other entails wet rocks hops and strong deadwood

Each would be a challenge, now to pick a trail


(A Wreathed Sestet with a nod to Robert Frost)

September 22

Bittersweet (Celastrus orbiculatus)


The day autumn descends

On the northern hemisphere I wander

My favorite trail noticing the autumn colors just emerging.

Native wildflowers abuzz with bees and bugs and birds. Equally beautiful

Are the strangers to this forest, this meadow, this trail.


They’re beautiful but they’re destructive


These plants distract wildlife from the sustaining meal.

They colonize our woodlands.

Dominating our disturbed soils left after progress

Moved through. They’re controlled in their homelands

By soil fungus, airborne disease or leaf eating insects

But here along this trail as far as the eye can see they are unchecked.

To that eye untrained they are part of this splendid autumn landscape.


They are destructive but they are beautiful.


Cannot stop global trade introducing

These plants to our nature. Cannot

Eradicate the unwelcome guests like so many ants

To a spring kitchen. Cannot stop the birds with a new found taste

From feeding and dropping exotic seeds.

Cannot just breathe and take in the beauty?


They’re beautiful, but they’re destructive.


(A Bop Poem)

August 15

Fallen Fungus


Oh dear the mushroom has been uprooted

Some careless walking has it uprooted

It sure looks like it’s been hiking-booted

The soft pine needle ground buffered its fall

It’s squat, short and stout with not far to fall

Do you think the person noticed it at all?

Amazingly for this organism

This is not death for this organism

Regardless of our own barbarism

Miles of mycelium supporting

Acres of hyphae supporting

Nearly immune to human cavorting

Mushrooms will thrive long after we are gone

As extinct as the great mastodon


(A Blues Sonnet)

August 5

Fuzzy Planning


Road trip dreams post work-day reality

Planning the vacation but not too much

Where might we bike hike kayak camp and such

So grateful for our commonality.

Work week starts and vacation brain sets in

With each passing day focus is lacking

Mind wanders to long days of backpacking

We can’t wait until the journey begins.

The week will go by too fast we are sure

Dreaming and planning extend our short break

Thinking of it each moment we’re awake

Oh, how many more workdays to endure?

We have maps and guides but won’t let them reign

There’s just one plan: to avoid the mundane.


(An Australian Sonnet)