I return in strength

backdrop to a glowing

phosphorous curtain,

life’s trinkets and keepsakes

comfort me, they offer

recollections tinted

in warm smiles

a second-hand chair

in the corner,

its matching ottoman

a godsend for aching feet

owl windchime,

wise with subtle

indoor tinkles,

looks over my shoulder

as I sip vanilla chai

exploring poetry & prose

recording the world

as I find it

in a spiral-bound journal

nodding in satisfaction

strength restored within

from the place

I trust, that place

I go

The kin don’t ken

to outside influences.

Deplorable folk

dissing whatever

big idea no matter

how pragmatic,

thoroughly schooled

or well-designed

for humankind’s well-being.

Continuation of (quality) life

apparently only

secondary (tertiary?)

to the pernicious

foodstuffs rammed

into willing crevices

of heart, mind, body & soul.

I don’t get it.

I just never will.

junco acquaintances

brighten 

my winter garden