Great Granny’s Caramel Cake

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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

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

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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.

A Flickering

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at 4:37 I heard

scrambling of paw

on wood floor

ticky-toe hurried

steps toward

the bedroom door

next the whining,

different from normal

pleas, like someone

stepping full weight

on my Boo Radley

then a return to

the bed, where he

turned in circles

bumping us with

his body to wake

us up, then lay

between our heads

trembling

panting

as if there were

a ghost.

I took them out,

all three,

in the light balmy

mist of the

pitch black

Georgia backwoods

starry skies

thought of the bits

of squirrel tail

over near the tree

line where violent

death hung in the

recent air

we came back

inside, and I turned

off the light to return

to bed.

A flicker after the

switch-off, and I

knew.

Hello, Mom!

Visual Vexations

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Visual Vexations

my brother and I

wonder still: were

Mom’s Lewy Body Dementia

confusions visual

distortions or hallucinations?

She saw a little boy in an

orange shirt sitting all alone

at the storefront and worried

about his safety.

We saw a pumpkin.

She saw strange men with

bunches of bananas

under the carport.

We saw family members

building her a wheelchair

ramp with Dewalt power tools.

She heard voices playing

tricks on her. We heard

branches scratching

the shutters in the wind.

Still, we wonder what she

would see now.

Would she know we are

her children, making our

way through this carnival

funhouse with all these

distorting mirrors

of the complex

and the concave,

wondering, too,

what things are?

All This Pain

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the closest we

ever got to a

rainbow was a

peacock feather

the day the two

went to Noah’s Ark

to look for things

to discover

to wonder about

I didn’t feel like

that kind of mother

who says a prayer

and leaves it in

the lap of Jesus

without worry

I was more

the warrior type

praying everyday

hoping all the

nickels would add

up to be worth a miracle

I knew in the back

of my mind when I

saw the Cheshire Cat

smile

Blue Eyes

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they were getting

ready for an afternoon

wedding when the

husband stepped out

of the shower, kissed

his wife, said

I love you, Blue Eyes

laid down on the

bed and died of

a heart attack

leaving her and

their four sons

grieving

this is why when

my husband came

to my bedside

this morning before

stepping into his

shower and kissed

me I wondered:

should I give him

an aspirin?

should I take one?

Ticks ~ Husband vs. Wife

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Wife: Oh, good gracious! A tick!

(gets tweezers, removes tick, flushes it)

7 seconds later finishes

applying makeup, gets dressed and starts

writing before work in her favorite chair

***********

Husband: (hollers from shower)

Can you come here?

I need you to look at something!

Wife: (hollers back) I’m not falling for that again.

Husband: No, seriously.

I think I have a tick.

Wife: I’ll be there when you get out.

Husband: (parading into living room

towel wrapped around his waist,

still half-wet, hair every whichaway,

pointing just under his left nipple)

No wonder I’ve been itching since

we got home from camping!

Wife: Are you sure it’s a tick? It’s

embedded deep. It’s not a mole?

Husband: I don’t think so.

Do you have tweezers?

Wife: Yes, I’ll get them.

(brings them from makeup bag)

Husband: Here, you try! (hands tweezers back)

Wife: (rolling eyes)

Husband: Well, I can’t see that angle

Wife: There’s a mirror right

behind you (digging at embedded

tick, husband wincing)

Husband: Here, let me try

(takes tweezers)

Wait, do you have different

tweezers? These aren’t lining up right.

Wife: (goes and looks for another pair

brings them back 3 minutes later)

Husband: (still digging) I got part of it

Wife: The head is still in there.

Husband: I’ll dig that out later. I’m

going to be late for work…..

(dresses, kisses her, grabs coffee, leaves for work)

Wife returns to chair to finish writing

<writes: Ticks ~ Husband vs. Wife>

Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers

A Saga in Six Days of Life When You Live on a Farm: Featuring Boo Radley and the Unexpected, Day 5

Boo Radley on intake at the rescue organization, so matted they had to shave him down

Day 5:

from the corner

of the house

I could see

the bull’s nostrils flare

I covered my eyes

and peeked through

two fingers

with one eye

our little rescue dog

the Schnoodle we

named Boo Radley

for his timid demeanor

the Schnauzer-Poodle mix

abandoned

in a duplex

by his former family

found by a landlord

matted and starving

thirsting to death

our Boo Radley

with more issues

than a decade of

Saturday Evening Posts

Boo, who trembles

when a cell phone dings

who drops his ears

when we pick him up

who has a nervous

breakdown when he

smells the heat

from the toaster

who sits and stares

down the driveway

when one of us

should be coming home

our Boo Radley

did a most

surprising thing

Boo the day we brought him home
Boo with zoomies on the farm