Just a short poem
For our soldiers now living
Too far from home
To be here for Thanksgiving
We know your heart aches
For we feel it too
Your empty chair makes
It so sad without you
To use a cliche
Freedom comes with a price
So we thank you this day
For your great sacrifice
Our fictional President Pooh
Got his tan from a bottle, it’s true,
But he rubbed too much in,
And it gave his old skin
A tomato-stained tupperware hue.
–Photo by me
are we
unknown,
in cloistered swirl,
and not yet citizens?
or
are we
alone,
an oyster’s pearl,
the only denizens?
time will tell
or not
–photo by me (in my yard)
Winter’s maid
Arrived last night,
I see now by the dawn;
There’s fresh-fluffed
Pillows all in white
And clean sheets
On the lawn.
smiling glass lips part
endless rows of crystal teeth
shatter on the rocks
–photo by me
