misted houses & hills
a distance fog encroaches
tulips continue their dance
Yup
“When a clown moves into a palace he doesn’t become a king, the palace instead becomes a circus.” — Turkish proverb
Post Script: The proverb itself likely originated with the Circassians, Sunni Muslims from the Northwestern Caucasus, and is not specifically Turkish.
Source: Huffington Post
don’t blame me…
I voted for decency
Published Poems — Belated!!
A year ago, two poems were accepted for publication by The Argyle Literary Magazine. However, I was never notified and, on my own, I was unable to find them anywhere online.
I emailed the editor in June asking if I’d missed them somehow.
Fast forward to this morning when I discovered a response in my Inbox. Apparently, the editor’s home had been leveled in a tornado and the journal has been on “indefinite hiatus” since then. I don’t know what its future plans are at this time.
The editor told me he’s catching up on emails and my poems, imploring the hills to sing and sages astride 12 harlequin bicycles, were published in the March 2024 issue. Here’s the link and I thank you for looking!
Numbers Game for March 3, 2025
Today’s number, per Judy’s fabulous challenge, is 183. I didn’t have much to work with this time around but, well, here we go!
The Numbers Game: 181
Super Bowl LIX
house is (fairly) clean
food, snacks, beverages: all check
don’t care (too much) about commercials
we just want to see a good game!
midwest dynasties
string of interstate traffic
inside every vehicle
an epic tale of family
The Numbers Game: 178
Unfortunately, my library yielded only a handful of photos when I asked it to deliver up those with a 178 in their filename. However, I was delighted to see one that is quite apropos for the upcoming ‘holiday of love’. Here’s my offering for Judy’s wonderful numbers challenge for today, January 20th 2025 ~
I long to wrap my arms around him but remember how they say to let sleeping dogs lie
puppy sleeps in the light
that pours from a south-facing window,
sunshine warms his gumdrop nose—
our boy, dreaming
of belly rubs, car rides & squirrels
A Sawyer's Daughter 
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