We fear this young fawn
has fallen victim to our
night-time predators
we kept seeing it
all alone, no mother close
….did, but now we don’t
Stay tuned!
Baby Deer Haiku
Great Granny’s Caramel Cake
my great granny Lena
made a caramel layer cake
second to none
back in the 1930s
between the Great Depression
and the sugar rationing years
teaching her daughters
the fine art of baking
just the way to moisten
the flour
just the way to bake
to touch
just the way to cook
the caramel sauce
not staying true
to any recipe, just
baking from the
knowing
baking from the heart
the way it tastes best
downtown,
a young man
“helps” an old lady across the
street when she
doesn’t want to go
still, emails come
offering to
pound cakes into molds
like this
the kind of store-bought
cake no one raves
about ever:
We are prepared
to support leaders
with individualized
coaching to positively
impact their school districts.
We have assembled
some of the best professionals
throughout the state to serve
as executive coaches.
We have made it a top priority
to provide this
performance-based l
leadership to inspire
leaders to “GROW” and achieve
maximum impact
my granny Lena knew the art
of a thing could not
underpower
the science of a thing
because frosting-forcing
falls miserably ~ implodes
like a cake that might
have been delicious
In Places Loved Nonet
today I loaded my car with books
first editions, autographed names
I’m holding on no longer
to these inked hostages ~
those sentiments are
not mine; nor those
memories ~
I’ve let
go
of
housing
what should live
in places loved
where their worth is not
measured in value of
possible return or in
collectors’ satisfaction but
in what’s inside ~ their words and message
Toxic Relics
in Genesis
Lot’s wife looks
back longingly
to the past
before turning into
a pillar of salt ~
so as I part with
these pieces of
past, these
memory scars of
what once was
but is no more
I heed
Luke’s caution ~
that the past can be
the kiss of
death for
the present
old books
have arsenic
old paint
has lead
old memories
have heartache
Peace Lily Death
directly home after
the graveside
service of her
husband’s funeral
she pummelled
all 9 peace lilies
down the bank
into the
Flint River
they remind me of death
hurling the plants
with emphasis on
words as she flung
the polished green
leaves over the edge
me, cheering her
for their unspent
lives unlike that one
on our front porch
a funeral leftover
that will not die
yellow-brown curled
leaf fingers grasping
for life in all its
wanting to be
me, planning a trip
to the river bank
with a peace lily
The Worms
I checked daily for
weeks on our baby wrens
in the garage
on the old desk
destined for Goodwill
but when I got
home from work
the nest was destroyed
pulled into the yard
a broken candelabra
shattered on the
concrete floor beneath
something got our babies
probably the feral cat
the black one that
comes in at night
trips the light
prowls around on the hunt
I tiptoe sometimes
down the hall to watch it
in its silent quest for a
field mouse
something found these
baby wrens I’d
eagerly spied on
from eggs to
nestlings, almost
fledglings,
their tiny mouths
opening for worms
at the slightest
bump or noise
in nature’s cruel twist
they became
the worms
Rest in peace, little ones.
The Tick
At 3:54 a.m.
I felt it~
the sting itch
of a bite
on my insole
I fumbled for
the itch cream
back in bed
couldn’t sleep
4:17 I felt the
critter urgently
scrambling
Along the back
Of my shoulder
Up my neck
Behind my ear
To my hairline
Where my fingers
Found it,
Pinched all
The way to the
Sink, released it
To see a lone star
Tick scaling the basin
I turned on the water
Chased it down the
Drain, pulled the stopper
And filled the sink
But still felt the
Crawly itch as I
Lay back down
on my eyebrow,
under my armpits
in the fold of my ear
even my clavicle
itched ~
(they don’t
make
clavicle itch cream)
Farewell Flower Petals
more goodbyes today,
this time the petals
of the yellow roses
adorning her casket
the ones I rescued from
the graveside for fear
the deer would eat them
instead bringing them
home to make potpourri
but never opening the
lid, finally pulling the
red Russell Stover
chocolate Valentine tin
from the top shelf of
the closet, opening the
lid, taking in the
faded scents of
New Year’s Eve 2015
the day of her funeral
a last day of a year
a last day of a lifetime
a day, June 13, 2024
to say goodbye to
the flowers I’ve kept
for so long
I scattered them at
the edge of the wood
where the tragedy
happened with the
squirrel so the flowers
recycled to another
farewell and will
live on in this red
clay pine tree forest
forever
Something Fast and Dangerous
it all happened so fast
thirty yards to our left
in the woods
along the edge of the driveway
in the rural countryside
in the early morning
where anything is possible
where most won’t walk without
a wildlife safety gun
** (but I do) **
as I was walking the dogs
a rustling of underbrush
and a flash
something fast and dangerous
*** (not a deer) ***
running through the trees
me in my work heels
in sudden panic
my sled dog team kicked into
high gear
jolting me into a
sprint
holding on tight
praying whatever it was
would keep going the other way
*** (it did) ***
making me wonder:
is it time for a wildlife gun
or at least a fire extinguisher?
Unraveling Nonet
a catastrophic system failure
when things don’t quite go as we’d planned,
spinning out of our control,
fall apart at the seams
come undone, collapse
unraveling
spiraling
groundward
splat
Common Threads 