Small gray bird

Tall green grass

Pouncing gray paw

almost

dinner.

I am going outside to walk the trash

Don’t follow me it is raining

You will melt and that will be

the last time you will ask

me where I am going when

I go walk the trash.

The trash needing emptying

it was plain to see but no one empties

the trash but me.

So please do not follow me when I am walking the trash

(don’t laugh, dear)

in the rain you will melt and all that will be left of

you will be your brain (on the sidewalk)

Peanut Brittle
Crispy crunch
My Grandpa always ate it.

Other things that always were
Other than the sun and the moon
Minute and half timed eggs with a
Pocket watch very carefully and
Beer and pretzels at noon.

Sidleling up to my dear Grandpa
Beer intent in mind please give me
a pretzel will crunch it in soldier’s
timing eggs in the back garden
watching  legs swing
Sundial keeping time

Here’s to my Dad

Who always encouraged me in my dreams
and aspirations
And never made me feel that I was
Less or more than anyone else
Along the way

Broken wineglass
One wedding
Broken picture glass of the Kotel
Need to pray for another wedding
Broken gravy boat
Vegetarian coming for dinner?

Road by the sea
Gusting
Hunkering down
against the wind
Wait
Yellow flowers bending
Gently swaying
Relaxing
Opening up to the wind
Less resistance now
Carrying on down the road

Sticky sweet dripping
tart orange
warm
buttermelting
ummmmmmdelicious.

There is a little bug
So tiny you can not see
And it hangs on the inside
of the leaves of the Jiggle Bug Tree.
This little Worry Bug
It Jiggles and it Shakes
Waving on the breeze of the
Jiggle Bug Tree

Woory, oh woory does not
Anywhere one get
Shaking on the branches of the
Jiggle Bug Tree

All the energy for growing and
making money too is spent
shaking on the branch of the Jiggle Bug Tree

What we tell ourselves
On the inside is what we
Get on the out, hanging on,
Hanging on,
On the branch of the Jiggle Bug
Tree.

The Jiggle Bug Tree has worry leaves that block the sunlight out,
We create them with our mind,
hanging from the Jiggle Bug Tree

I thought I lost my rhyming
Mo Jo but ’tis very clear to see
It is not lost, but it is where it has always
Been
Inside of me.

My little girl lost her sweatshirt
It ran away from home
I could not find it
‘cose it had no phone
It has two pockets it could have put it there and telephoned me when it got to
where it was….
It was a naughty sweatshirt
I thought it was hiding in her room
I looked under the bed and tickled all
the other sweatshirts with a broom.
They were not amused and refused to tell me where that little black sweatshirt
had to run away to, oh where?
Never mind I said, you can be replaced
because you have no feet and certainly
not a face.

And the person that used to wear you is at home and very safe.

Forgetful beans are an
integral part of a wind
tunnel running through
one ear and out the other,
taking everything in their
path leaving the owner of these
beans wondering, just wondering.