Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte

Haiku: Life In the Time of Covid-19

Wind howls like Winter
Blooming trees herald Springtime
My window sole view


Musical Accompaniment

Back in the fifties
In my teenage years
Music was all about dancing

We slow-danced and we jitterbugged
Answering rhythms with our feet
Bodies young and happy

Legendary Red Tops band
In the Mississippi Delta
Had a tune which stopped the show

When Rufus McKay sang Danny Boy
Golden trumpet soaring high
We stood still entranced


Once Upon a Time

We met again in a magical moment
Forty years later
At our high school reunion
Time suddenly shrunk
To the here and now

We fell in love
For the first time together
We had each traveled that road before
Then sadly reached the end of the journey

Now everything sparkled
Snuggly close and splendid
For a while

Until gauzy distance
Seemed what we preferred


Haiku: New Time Zone

Day without routine
Like a slow dripping faucet
Fills space in due time

Calendar empty
Clock almost irrelevant
I feel oddly free

New problems to solve
Call for creativity
And also good luck

I hit the jackpot
Found browsing Amazon
Large cache of TP


Haiku: Street Food

On long summer days
We sat on the curb waiting
For the sound of bells

We longed for the taste
Colored ice for tongues’ licking
Refreshment from heat

He was our hero
Bright memory of childhood
The popsicle man


Teenage Playlist Fifties Style

All the Things You Are, You’ll Never Walk Alone, Grand March from Aida, Stranger in Paradise, Some Enchanted Evening…you get the idea. I loved Broadway Musicals, Operas and Hit Parade Tunes. My son recently added to my repertoire with tapes he created for me of the music of Chet Baker, Ella Fitzgerald, Dinah Washington, Duke Ellington and Harold Arlen. You see, once upon a time we vintage-aged folk were the original golden oldies.


Haiku: Native Language

Song is a feeling
Borne on wind and blue ocean
Rooted in the soul

Melody alive
Bodies knew without lessons
From the beginning

My song is a dirge
Today ripped without warning
From a heavy heart

A bird is singing
Notes through eons enduring
So be it with us


A Wide Window

This morning I ate breakfast and read the newspaper as I do every day. The updates on the devastation of the coronavirus were even worse than yesterday. I acknowledged to myself that I am filled with fear about what life will be like when the scourge has passed for however many of us make it through.

I was looking out of my long living room window. The view below of trees, plants, patio chairs and tables and the bright blue pool brought me a measure of peace. The window is what sold me on this apartment when I moved here seven years ago to live close to my family. Now so much is uncertain.

As I sat looking out my window I thought of how I would write about open possibilities. I remembered my mother’s response to the Great Depression. There came a week when my dad’s paycheck wouldn’t cover a whole week’s supply of groceries. None of us children were born so there was only the two of them to feed. My mother always had a mischievous spirit. She decided that if there was not enough money to buy groceries for the week she would buy a steak and they would have one glorious meal. I have told myself this story over the years when things got tough. It makes me happy every time.


What’s There to Laugh About?

In this strange and fearful time
My world turned upon its head
Rubber gloves high fashion statement
Toilet paper in great demand

Afraid of germ’s habitation
I harbor mail and cardboard boxes
Consigned to time in spare bathtub
For period of quarantine

Yet life goes on

In hall outside of my apartment
Sounds of ripping old wall paper
Redecoration still in progress
Beauty not to be deterred

Today I hear construction noises
Workers replace old swimming pool
Oak tree outside my window’s promise
Blossoming in tiny buds

That Spring will come