first fib

it

begins

with a fib

and grows into

an unforeseen web

of subsequent untruths.

our noses begin growing

like the lines in this etheree,

and it’s all a little funny because

we can’t even remember that first fib.

Rescued

My son Aaron managed to grab another one of the feral kittens that hang out on the edge of town; he has a soft spot for strays, and knows that they’ll freeze to death when the bitter cold comes if left outside.

This one has something wrong with her front leg; it swings around like it’s broken, but she doesn’t seem to be in any pain. It might be a birth defect. We wrapped it up to help her walk easier.

Anyway, I think it is so important to teach our children to be kind to animals. They’ll learn to be kinder all around when they’re older — and our world sure needs that!

Here’s what I believe is an anonymous quote on it to which I wholeheartedly agree:

“How you treat animals

tells me

all I need to know

about you.”

–Photo by me

wordless wednesday (11/16/22)

photos by me

funny faces (senryu)

if we could see how

silly we look when we’re mad,

we’d promptly find peace

–photo by me

limerick 45 (true story)

skittles, the wee orphan fawn,

was looking a little withdrawn,

but deer season came

and she ain’t been the same

since she had a bright collar put on

–photos by me

winter: where texture goes to die

beyond corduroy fields,

where the suede bluffs lie,

there’s a crepe paper lake

‘neath a soft cotton sky;

yet these same textures

are hard to recall

when winter’s white blanket

covers them all

–photo by me

haiku 132

i see dinosaurs

parading around as birds–

but their eyes don’t lie

–photos by me

shot of the day (11/10/22)

photos, they say,

are frozen in time–

here’s shot of the day

with a little rime

–photo by me

november pain

november’s a shock to the deer

who were born in the spring of the year,

for they weren’t told upfront

’bout the cold nor the hunt

nor the snow that makes food disappear

–photo by me

paper planes (archives)

i read my poem

to an old friend

he thought it

was about him

it caught me so

off guard when

he began to sob

i had meant it

to be humorous

seeing him cry

brought tears to

my eyes as well

so there we sat

two grown men

sobbing together

over a silly poem

about time travel

* * *

poems are paper planes–

we send them out, not knowing

where they might touch down

–photo by me