clouds engulf the sky

 as clouds engulf the sky

horizon to horizon, only then

do we see the combat of currents

roil, stretch, gather, glide

layer, buffet, billow, darken

tower, menace, collide, twist,

rotate, rebound, slither, wisp

transparent air interactions

made visible by minute captive bits

of moisture and debris

warfare enormously powerful

mostly hidden from our mindfulness

gray-green settles

gentle gray-green settles imperceptibly

onto autumn mornings as our sun

scampers south ahead of harsh winter

yet the mood-resolving tint helps

prepare our courage and resolve

for endurance when only the depths

within us will carry us through

sing, laugh, cry

i sing because i am too small

  to contain what i feel

i laugh because the joke is on humanity

i cry because the joke is not funny

i sing because i live with deep joy

i laugh because my loves needs to believe

   i am well

i cry when they discover i am human

i sing because i am part

  of a great vastness

i laugh to cover my inadequacy

  and pray for compassion

  and forgiveness

i cry when i cannot do what i see needs

  to be done

i sing because i am only part

  of the universe

grateful morning

nearly all my life

 have awakened happy

my years of questioning

the attributes of God

have turned into a lifetime

of recognizing i – and no one –

is large enough to state

an absolute definition

but those years of questioning

the existence of God

were always dissolved

by realizing i would have no one

to thank for morning

butterball chickadee

a  small, butterball

black-capped chickadee

picks daintily at what seed

is left after other birds

have been at the birdseed tray

the sunrise fades pale orange

to gray behind him

as he breakfasts with genteel

unhurried manners

incompetent, again

remaining in gear at the car wash

while i dug for their money

in my wallet while they

were already spraying toward

my open window

so, i lurched forward

was yelled at, “Stop!”

and the disgusted attendant

pointed to the sign commanding

the car be in neutral

how many times have i been through

an automatic car wash not to know?

how devastating that a minute virus

can grind me into incompetence

stretch the truth

stretch the truth

as politicians are not alone in doing

mislead

while not a lie, is close enough to diminish

prevaricate

it’s easier on your conscience than lying

gain in the world

lose whatever you valued in your own eyes

water pistols

ah, the subtilty

with which we learn

to shoot each other

water pistols in joyous colors

or us to play the hero

while our buddies rise again

drenched, laughing, unharmed

arcade games with cartoon

victims splattered while blatant

noises celebrating victory

prod us to aim and fire at more

until a hectic emergency room

physician hears groans and whimpers

of surprise from gang victims

“It hurts!”

sunrise glorious

haiku

sunrise glorious

not belonging to those who

awake to alarm

i know better

knowing myself unworthy

i find it hard to accept gifts

even the gifts of love and caring

friends and family bestow

but they are hurt when i protest

that i am aware of my shortcomings

my pettiness, my mistakes and

the pain my errors of arrogance

have caused them

but i must smile and accept

though my tears sometimes

betray me and i can only say

what i truly mean

in hugs

cirque de soleil, my daughters’ gift

Cirque de soleil and my daughters

Cirque de soleil and my daughters laughing on either side of me

at the antics of athletic clowns and of Andy, the gentleman behind us

chosen from the audience, a good sport

Our awe at the skill of a sleek lady who could twirl hoops with feet, arms

neck, torso while in positions most of us have never been in in our lives

At the daring of men dancing, skipping rope or riding a bike

with another standing on his shoulders on the high wire

And breath-held fear for the safety of the man performing atop the rotating

wheel, or the one posing balanced atop the ever-taller tower of stacked chairs

And for those catapulted, spinning in the air to land on the shoulders

of a tower of men or, bound into stilts or a lengthy pogo stick, doing

somersaults before landing upright on thick mat

the story of old-time circus thrilling its chuckling, gasping

screaming audience

new friend

a new friend

from a part of the country

i know little about

raised in undertones

my childhood never felt

yet sharing a sense of self-worth

and dignity we both

must have known

since we could first print

our own names

palette of elation

simply to sharpen my awareness

of the beauty around me, i look

in order for a natural representation

of each of the colors of the rainbow

red, today, is apple (noting with joy

the golden-yellow, wiggly lines

descending from the shoulders)

orange – sunrise struggling between

purple clouds

yellow – leaves, as Alli Weiss put it,

learning ‘the sweet song of dying’

green – remarking trees in prolific hues

from chartreuse, pea green, avocado olive, khaki, bottle, sea, cedar, emerald

blues in luscious abundance from sky

to spruce needles to rare autumn

fallen lacy leaves

purple, magenta, hyacinth

and tiny, pink, shy, bell-like florets

even remembering this gorgeous pallet

of my world bring me warm peace

and hope for a happy tomorrow

producing make-believe

eyes blurring, it is time to stop

editing between a somewhat final

version by the publisher

the sensitivity reader’s suggestions

and my earlier proofing

but it is dawning on me

that we may be on the last lap

producing Exhalation

plagued again and again by illness

editor after editor experiencing

delays due to sickness in this real world

far more important than the production

date of my world of make-believe

dark night of fall

 dark night

as the huge, full, near

harvest moon

submits to cowering

in earth’s growing shadow

and stars and constellations

flicker and dim beyond

our accumulating fog

and autumn rain clouds

warning in the early pages of Exhalation

Is this helpful as a warning in the early pages of my newest novel,  EXHALATION?

The NANDRIA Series has been my attempt to capture characters from the 1940s and early 1950s that created my world and my assumptions about what was valuable and who was not. As a child, i heard, and maybe repeated, words like colored, pickaninny, jigaboo, darky, coon, spade and spook if not niglet, bootlip, burrhead and monkey. I did not know they were slurs, but the Black people around me heard and knew the humiliation that these words and others were meant to deliver. I held so many assumptions i now know were invalid, but which i understood as the way the world was. Being family, i love both sides. It is my hope that these stories may give insight into the foibles and fears of each of us. Perhaps we may see each other as humanly vulnerable rather than evil.

waning harvest moon

even as she begins to wane from full

harvest moon sheds glow brighter

than cool over the lawn

as though first winter snow had spread

a patchwork quilt of and dark

reflected moonlight and shadow

as she filters her gift through naked

and still-leafed branches

elder humor

deep, wrinkled crevasses

beside her mouth

spell out her age

in decipherable hieroglyphs

but her sense of humor

stays young, biting and fun

challenging those who can see her

as a person rather than merely

an old woman

magnificent illusion

enormous orange round

the harvest moon seems to rise

and shed it dark color

to vivid, pearly white

nearer to us, it is itself

its enlargement and color changes caused by our looking

through more layers of particles

in our atmosphere

at the curvature of our earth

but, ah, the magnificence

of the illusion

hearing my characters

my characters alive

using my words

interacting

with emotions of their own

exploring depths

i had never considered

for them

in the voice of my friend