The Last Poem/imaginary gardens with real toads

The Last Poem

Words cobbled together

Lose old meanings

Take on new meanings

It is a birth of sorts

We change the numbers

We write on our checks

Look for the meanings

In a barren land

We agree, things are not 

What we would want them to be

But still, you are here

And I am, as well

We look together to the new year

With hope and expectations

It will not be from black to white

Rather a slow change

Like a snail in the garden 

Leaving a trail behind

Keeping track of where we are going

And where we have been

December 26, 2018

A Woman Gives the Full Moon Names/imaginary gardens with real toads

A Woman Gives the Full Moon Names

Native tribes have names

For the full moon

To mark the passing of time

A woman could give the full moon

Names to mark the passing of her life

Beginning with the time of birth moon

Little girl moon

School begins moon

Time of the young woman moon

Time of marriage moon

Time of children moon

Time of the full woman moon

Time of old age moon

Time of death moon

The circle 

Of the moon complete

December 23, 2018

An Empty Chair/imaginary gardens with real toads

An Empty Chair

Something that was there

But isn’t

I stand patiently

Waiting for your return

Sometimes I hear your footsteps on the stair

Or I can hear you walking about

On the floor above

I hear your voice calling for me

I hear your laughter

When busy playing alone

Or I can even hear you

Drawing quietly in your room

So many nights I waited past midnight

Sick with worry

But each time you returned home

Safe and well

Sometimes I even catch sight of you

Just a glance

As you disappear behind a tree

Playing hide and seek

You were so special to me

It is hard to believe you are not here

The years pass quickly

Your chair, like my heart, remains empty

December 20, 2018

Christmas in Espanola Valley/dVerse

Christmas in Espanola Valley

Sunday Afternoon

The bright morning sun

Now drops to the western horizon

The day’s light slips into the cracks and canyons

Shadows have grown long

The windmill quiet as if waiting

The sky cloudless

There are strong contrasts of lights and darks

The outlines of the mountains

Drawn hardedge

Their shapes defined

The limbs of the bare trees

Create patterns of lace

Against an empty pale blue sky

Traffic lights blink

The ribbon of cars slows down

Christmas trees

Cut this morning 

Lean against a white truck

In the parking lot

Each looks a little forlorn

Waiting to be selected

A large Christmas sign of red candles

Lighted at the top like flames

Blazes Merry Christmas

To Sunday afternoon travelers

December 17, 2018

The Christmas List/poets united poets pantry -- the sunday whirl

The Christmas List

The North wind howled
At my door
Dropping the lock
I invited him in

He had come to play
He whirled around the
Sparkling tree
He played with the train

Touched each gaily wrapped gift
Examined the tags
There was no gift for him
The smile dropped from his face

He spun around to leave
Then he took a folded piece of paper
From his pocket
It was a list

A list of things that could be done
To make the world a better place
It was his Christmas list
With downcast eyes…he said, “Maybe next year?”

December 16, 2018

Wordle 382:  wind, howled, neck, hundred, play, touch, shop, train, drop, spin, plan, lucky