Older Trees

the constant swaying of the trees

from them a lesson we should take

the winter air, a steady breeze

bend with the wind so not to break

but with high winds the boughs do shake

shedding branches that are fragile

while leaving litter in its wake

the older trees are much less agile 

2nd Floor Window

she still watches the world go by

but only now through panes of glass

a narrow view of trees and grass

a litter sliver of the sky

 

and if she’s lucky birds may fly

her expectations to surpass

she still watches the world go by

but only now through panes of glass

 

and from her window she can spy

the busy squirrels as they pass

with all the acorns they amass

yes, from her window way up high

she still watches the world go by 

Workshop

filtered light

through dirty windows

illuminates the ancient wood

a workbench

and some antique tools

tobacco cans

full of nuts and bolts

a hint of oil in the air

a faded, water stained calendar

hangs on the wall

1936

the last year this land was farmed

sometimes I sit in the workshop

on a hard wooden stool

not to work on farm implements

but to go back in time

and take in the sights

and smells of 1936

my only tools:

a pencil and a notebook 

Words

if only I could lighten up your darkness

illuminate the shadows in your life

maybe help relieve a bit of anguish

add some color to your black and white

provide some shelter from the storm

or build a fire to keep you warm

 

if I could help you keep away the demons

chase away the wolves from your front door

help you navigate through troubled waters

encourage you to plot a steady course

take some of the noise away

or just listen to what you have to say

 

I tell you things will be okay

but I have no way of knowing

and sometimes all I have are words

but maybe that’s all you need to hear

and maybe that’s enough,

enough to give you hope 

Dreamers, Lovers, Poets

 

we were dreamers

when all we had was time

we had no money

but dreaming didn’t cost a dime

watching the world through shuttered blinds

coloring outside the lines

ignoring all the warning signs

nothing could’ve changed our minds

 

we were lovers

of convenience I suppose

to ward off loneliness

no emotions to expose

but play with fire and you’ll get burned

another painful lesson learned

another pensive lover spurned

another of life’s corners turned

 

we were poets

and all we had were words

carried dictionaries

like awkward English nerds

with big ideas and things to say

and information to convey

but other things got in the way

like all the debts we had to pay

Childhood Nostalgia

There used to be cobblers in every town

back when people polished their shoes

and darned their socks.

My mother saved buttons

from shirts that could no longer be repaired

to be used on shirts that still could be.

On Saturdays a man in a truck

would park on the street

and sharpen knives and scissors

for those who wanted to keep their edge.

Another man in another truck

came around and collected old rags,

newspapers and returnable bottles.

Televisions, radios and washing machines

could be repaired instead of discarded.

Doctors would come to people’s houses

so sick children didn’t have to go out in the cold.