Thanksgiving 2025

mother and three of her young adult children

comprise my laughing crew

of daughter and beloved grandkids

playing a word game that tests their wit

and playfulness as i am privileged

to watch, listen and whisper thanks

gathering

family table with leaves

for apples who fell

far from the tree

childhood memories rewarmed

boxed and taped, sent off

to loved relatives leaves me

warm with memories

respond to a child

when a child runs up

with something to show you or give you

stop what you are doing

look, listen, respond

because then he knows

he is worthwhile

and what he does matters

you needn’t over-praise

acknowledgment serves his needs

rejection eviscerates his sense of self

hear me

please listen, my darling

if you can, hear what i mean

with or despite words

blue fog

haiku

pre-dawn sapphire fog

shimmers night lights to pale blue

and eerie shadows

maple glow

haiku

glow of maple orange

even of the last few leaves

pierces misty fog

winter approaches

haiku

with stealthy approach

winter mists exhalations

then shudders, shivers

now is so altered

i cannot now

where always i could

if it was a matter of will

but old age has changed

not only my ability

but my confidence

painted mornings

haiku

Nature paints mornings

over horizon dotted

with pine silhouettes

backdrop blue

haiku

indigo deep blue

setting stage for dawn’s entrance

glorious backdrop

dark clouds sun-bleached

haiku

compassion, like dawn

breaks through miasmas of greed

to caring persons

feeble envoy

i am a fighter

but i have a logical mind

he is a fighter

but runs on emotion

i do not know

how to reach him

to point out an insight

stubborn

you will only push me so far

and then i will either

agree with you - or not

i will either cooperate

with you – or not

deal with it

withdraw

a few words, withdrawing

from family participation

and my heart aches for her

for them, for us

something is wrong which

we cannot touch, or even try

to help fix and i feel her

drawing into herself

when we would hold her close

relate by hand

something warm about putting

pencil to paper as though giving

of self to communicate unfettered

by the other’s immediate response

flying purple clouds

flying purple clouds

crossing my wide window

in a second and a half

south to north as though

late for an appointment

an anxiety i know well

grief shouldered

weighed by the death of a teenager

i’d teased and listened to and loved

remarking to myself his near approach

to the manhood he will now not know

and the depth of his love – and theirs

of him – of two generations of family

we will attend his celebration of life

but mourn those broad shoulders

had never borne the weight of children

of his own

without warmth

gossip over the back fence

was often merely meant to keep fellow

villagers informed so they, too,

might pray for neighbor’s health and joy

gossip on blunt email lacks

the softening effect of person to person

misses touch’s feeling we are all human

and comes across as callous bullying

crags to riches

cragged personalities

may soften raw edges

if met with suspended judgment

and allowed opportunity and time

to reveal tender core