remembering
what might have been
could have been
should have been
*
onward, regardless…
the exercise
it’s very early in the A.M.
and sleep refuses to take me
I jot down answers to a poetry prompt
& in the quiet stillness of our sunroom
I giggle at one or two of them
Oh, Canada!
wildfire smoke still obscures a clear view
microscopic particulates wreak havoc —
mis ojos, my upper respiratory system
dew point is more favorable today
but, given the haze, I choose to remain indoors
Ugh
Hate to be a downer here but this is something I despise, people tooting their own horns about something good & wonderful they’ve done for others. I remember the lesson we were taught in catechism about how if someone is compelled to share with others their good deeds, well, then, THAT is your ‘reward’ for doing so. Much better, me thinks, to act out of kindness, love and charity for someone and keep that to yourself.
interior mystery
there’s a poet I know who shared something she’d found
a fantastic poem she has no recollection having written
details only she would know or care to cast about
*
its verses convey a voice unlike her normal fare
she recognized that straight away
as did we, her faithful poetry companions
*
how to regain this same tone, this sense of freewriting
she asks, hoping we can guide her back to this unknown place
I tap the side of her head, gently, tell her friend, it’s all in here
misery
the last of summer’s 2nd month
wet and warm, hot and humid
a spent, wilted recipe
for baked-in wretchedness
late-summer tempest
slow-moving storm, freighted deliberation
dark, swollen clouds unburdened of rain
far away, a parched soil awaits its liberation
revision blues
my words —
never so charmed
nor as clever
as I’d intended
*
passes, third
fourth, fifth
or more
*
quite necessary
to glean
and elucidate
my stubbornly
resistant
interior ramblings
theme manifest
july, 2025
a poet leaves this earth
& soon, my mother follows
a driving rain falls, and falls
A Sawyer's Daughter 
Chit Chat