Silk Scarves

Wear silk scarves when you make presentations
to hold your audience’s attention.
Soft to the touch, they can be tied in a bow
come in colors to match your eyes, clothing or jewelry.

Choose a splash of color to keep the focus on you
by stimulating their imagination.
The one with greens and blues looks like the sea
evoking thoughts of the salt air and splashing waves
reminiscent of a beach far away.

The red one denotes
passion and boldness
and for that reason wear it under a collar
loose around your neck
to bring attention to your breast.
It looks best with red shoes and red lipstick.
Wear it with blue and white to give rise
to feelings of patriotism,
something grander than your meager words
as you try to draw their attention to products
or attempt to persuade them to take a class
or a program for self improvement.

Remember, when you look good
you have abundant sales.

Few want to deal with a cougar in daylight
so save the animal prints
for after dark.
Prowl the dance halls and night clubs in the evenings,
while looking for unsuspecting prey,
wear your scarf up high, tight around your neck
with a long sash hanging down your shoulder like a leash.

A Bouquet of Flowers

Picture by Bill

In the garden
I gather flowers
cutting the stems
close to the bloom.

Where shall I put them?

I look at their colorful faces
splashes of purple, pink, and yellow
The folds of their petals surround a spot,
a secret soft center, in a contrasting color
like a child peeking out
from under the covers.

What would you say dear flowers
if you could speak?

“Beauty surrounds you - take it in.
Life is worth living - develop and grow.
Love is for giving - find someone
and love him completely.

Be willing to be cut, plucked
and hung out to dry
but get close to your lover anyway
don’t try to escape.

Stop saving yourself for something better
let yourself be tasted and savored
become one with another.

Remember, a gift unopened
is no gift at all.

Aspens Along The Highway

Traveling through Northern Arizona
from Flagstaff to Williams last year
I passed a cluster of Aspens along the highway.
White trunks arranged in haphazard rows
carved into the paper-like bark
Jenny loves Lloyd, WR + DT, WTF.
An awkward surface for so much graffiti,
Black scars from the base to the top















One whole section was missing today
burned in last season’s fire
nothing remained but a few hollowed stumps
now acres of new grass and wildflowers.















I have these pictures so I know they existed once
chronicled in my scrap books and power points,
painted scenes in watercolor and oils,
feeble attempts to reflect real life.
How much are we like the Aspens,
stalwart individuals, scarred and standing in close proximity
separate but connected by a network of underground roots
vulnerable to disease, insects and firestorms?

Pictures by Bill

Two Reflective Poems

Cycles of Time
The moon goes from
new to full
twelve months is all
it takes to cycle through the year

So many songs mark those times
like the year I met you
Bob Dylan sang, “The times they are a'changin.”
Change being the one constant

Babies to old age,
first bloom, to seed then dried
Love’s first kiss and final goodbyes
Egg, larva, pupa, butterfly















Picture by Bill

Love Letters
We wrote while you were away
daily letters I tied in pink ribbon
should have saved those love notes
but I threw them away
because I found my mother going through them

No record of our early romance
our words of innocence
and hopeful yearnings
no history for our grandchildren
how will they ever learn our story?

Our messages today sent through e-mail
deleted weekly at best
hardly worth savoring
“Stop at the store, see you at 6:00.”

I wonder if there’s a way to go back in
time to do it differently?

Night Wanderings

Picture by Bill

I woke up again last night,
the glowing light of the digital clock
guided my path with its bluish hue.

I wandered down the hall
to the sliding glass door
and gazed at the moon,
counted the stars,
then got a drink of water,
back again to my tousled sheets
wondered if the dreams would return.

A train stopping at a station
passengers entering and departing
a hiss and rumble
after the last whistle call.

I snuggle back in bed
touch your face and your hair
So glad you are lying here?

Dust Puppies

dust puppies
He shakes his body
and his ears flap
so do his jowls
back and forth
he shivers his back
all the way to his tail.

One by one
golden hairs
fly from his coat
and into the air
magnetically
reassembling into
little bundles of fur.

Every day I sweep up
three maybe four
gold dust puppies.
If I let a day go by
they cling to the bottom
of the furniture,
making the chairs easier to slide
across the floor.

Maybe I will collect his
offspring for a year
and offer little dust puppies
of different sizes
by the side of the road.

Spider’s Silk

The recent headline news about a young girl kidnapped at eleven prompted this poem. My prayers go out to her and her daughters so that they may recover from the nightmare.

Spider’s Silk
Delicate wisps of
baby’s breath,
a late night kiss,
hands that nestle
too long in places
they don’t belong.
The silent thrill she
doesn’t feel as he
spreads his fingers
to trap her innocence.
"There’s nothing wrong,"
he says,
not as long as she knows
he loves her
and always will.
"It is our secret,”
he whispers, stripping her
of any sense of who she is.
She’s daddy’s little girl,
captured and drained
of life…dead before
her wings are
spread.