no thank you

i can never figure out how to say with little cartoon critter emojis that i am sad for the extended sickness within our leaders, and us, that i am also ANGRY that we seem willing to take that abuse as though we deserved it - WE DO NOT deserve to be abused. No one does.

blessed to accept

blessed by laughter

as my three kids take on

the world to protect

and shelter me - who

needs to learn

to accept graciously

whiner in chief

i need to respect

those in power over me

this president whines

enlightened but opaque

dawn’s blush rose mostly in the north

this morning; massed gray-indigo

guinea pig-shaped puff clouds gliding

in ranks including mother and child

extended family units, eager lean males

confining themselves to the uniform

pace of unity-become-uniformity

merging into dense blue-gray

to blot out the sun’s natural emergence

blanket of the faithful whitened

from behind but massed troops

crowding out our earth’s source

of sustenance and light

insane, or acting?

Maher senses a human being

dressed as Bluffo the Clown

but if the man he sees is acting

the role that encourages hatred

and bedlam, isn’t that man

even more to be feared

as someone who knows

what he is doing and yet wills

the tearing apart fellow humans

for whatever profit he sees

as gain for himself?

funeral japes

it must be hard on those who loved him

to watch the posing and the posturing

of those who came, not to honor,

but to be seen and to negotiate

with other leader-impersonators

over the further selling of the poor

What Do They Face?

What is behind the fear

that sends our Congress

cowering before a bully?

There are persons in both chambers

who can rise above immediate greed,

but have not – Why?

What is the threat?

And by what means is it applied?

By whom?

Why do we allow it?

Bluffo in Rome

poor Bluffo arriving in Rome

with solemn face as though

he understood the depth

of the man he cannot even

kneel to honor

last moment

gorgeous,  sloped acreage of dry soil

and wide patches of evergreen timber

gorgeous view sold to gentleman farmer

thrilled to have found the property in time

to out-bit at the last moment

night cloud color

at dawn, the clouds are blue-gray

mottling the brighter white-blue

of sky beneath them

past dusk, the clouds and sky

were blue-black and an eerie white

as though all civilization’s fear

of darkness were determined

to hold off night and it was difficult

to tell by color, which was cloud

and which was sky

emerging color

haiku

stone gray giving way

to brilliant colors of joy

hope of Easter Day

swept up laughter and joy

swept the porches and weeded

the front garden early this morning

before more scheduled viewings

of our house on the hill

rhodies bursting into pinks

and whites and iris into purple

three snow-capped peaks glistening

on the horizon while my heart

warms to the interest and melts

at the loss of the home for decades

of family laughter and joy

flimsy evidence

 wispy cloud with intricate

ridges and whorls

of vapor fingerprint

flimsy evidence

of the concept of rain

plastic v plaster

i was in practice when

there were still plaster casts

so, i got to work on the soggy mess

created by a fractured-legged

athlete who could not wait

for his limb to heal before

water-skiing again

so, i am not down-playing

the many advantages of plastic

except that again we have overdone

a good thing to the point of inhaling

bits of the stuff, setting islands of it

loose in our oceans and using

it as barriers between

our sense of touch

and nature

in all, perhaps, not total gain

nature endures

 fog surrounds me in white

dawn squashes insistent pink

between cloud layers

osprey parents-to-be groom

nurture and fuss in nest of sticks

as though people have not chosen

their version of christianity

to justify their greed

re-read

Antoine de Saint Exupery’s Flight to Arras.

    I just read Antoine de Saint Exupery’s Flight to Arras. This French reconnaissance pilot, his navigator and gunner accept an assignment they know will give them less than one in three chances of surviving. All three know France is losing their war with Germany and that the information they gather will probably never reach the chaotic central intelligence to do any good in planning. Yet they accept with a mild, “Very good, Sir.”

     St. Exupery, author of Wind, Sand and Stars, describes his thoughts during lulls from attack during the flight and how his musings allow him to grasp his connection to the long, tangled lines of refugees. Once home to base, battered but safe, the pilot walks in lonely silence unraveling the strands he has come to understand. His insights give me constructive clues as I try to understand what is happening around me now: Acceptance, brotherhood, sacrifice have come to mean little as we have lost knowing we are part of something larger than ourselves and settle for the limitations of self.

blind to borders

poor Bluffo stubbed

bloody toe at the border

he refused to see

delusion

long years of giving to build

tall arrogance and short months

to tear apart and maim

the irony:

Bluffo the clown

thinks himself a man

so ready for spring

sunny days with snow-capped peaks

glistening against cerulean sky

rhododendron blossoms eager

to break forth into flushed, glowing

blushing pinks and unnamable whites

so ready for spring

surprised by anger

surprised by my deep anger

and feeling used

in the nasty snap i gave a friend

whose project demanded of me

when i had nothing left to give

he didn’t know; he went on a cruise

leaving me dangling

when he learned, he tried

to make amends, but too late,

it seems, because my true feelings

reached out in that vicious comment

that leaped from my lips

teaching me to forgive – when i can