you might be a bit

anal-retentive, she said.

i shrug it off.  so what

if I hang my underwear

out to dry            alternating

the whites & the creams,

the blacks & the shades

                of red, orange, the whisper of pink.

can’t an old gal

still mix things up

every once in awhile?

I woke to a flash of lightning this morning. Then another. And yet again, one more. At long last, rain had come! Sorely needed, too, as we’ve been in a bit of a drought for the past several weeks. And did I mention the rumbles of thunder? Oh, but I love me a good thunderstorm!!

Days like this are to be savored. We’ve had a fabulous fall here in the Midwest. The weather has been nothing short of spectacular. The mild, sunny days have allowed my husband to continue work on the new deck we’ve been building all summer. The rails are almost finished and attaching the fascia to the rim board will be the final piece. However, we’d hoped that the rest of the fascia we ordered would have arrived by now and so we wait, hamstrung by delayed deliveries and now the rain. No matter. The time off allows Bill to recuperate from the physical demands of working on the deck, and that’s a good thing too.

As for me, I plan to return to a couple of quilting projects in the works – and there’s always poetry to write and books to be read!

So, let it rain. I’ll savor every luscious, restorative drop!

My poem, To See with Thine Own Eyes, appears on page 26 of the just published 2022 Hallowzine Issue 3 edition, hot off the (on-line) presses!

Here is the link to the PDF which you can download for free.

It’s a funky little journal and I’m pleased to have been a contributor.  I think it’s a perfect way to cap off what’s been a very terrific day.  No complaints about autumn this year.  It’s been glorious!

Anyway, I hope everyone is doing well and as always, THANK YOU for looking!

the whale in the spaceship

crouches like a mule

translucent as all get out —


but soon he, she, it will

blossom like so many magnolias

come spring, orange & pink

a sprightly Ulysses on Mars

zipped tight, preening—

a vagabond warrior

in the cosmos

heat envelops

and wounds the world

skyscrapers scrape away

orange-blue clouds

iceberg tips revealing so little

                there isn’t much more to convey…

fires and flares,

omens from the sun

a shrinking planet

cries out No More!

It’s high noon in the not-so-OK corral.

Horses are getting weary, spooked.

Tumbleweeds and split rail fences

embroidery the western landscape.

I feel my heart tugging away

at the barb of wire coiled around

a scroll of Naugahyde peeking out

from a prairie schooner wagon

as the mule team chomps

at their bits, pawing at the red

Texas clay, keen on striking out,

Oregon-bound, eager for

a little Pacific redemption.