Poem for Thanksgiving

Mr. Owl’s Apology
High above
the woodland din,
perched on a
listing redwood
I spy
the hollow
far below
where humble
and rivers
where songbirds
flit and
beauty lies,
where greening
trees and
bluing skies
hide forest
their flittering
and fluttering
their wintering
and summering,
set my heart
a spin-owing.


Rainy Day Blues

Two weeks of rain have come and gone–hurrah!

My head is wet,
my nose is cold,
my feet are
lumps of clay.
A chill wind’s blown
the starlight out
and chased
the moon away.
Fog steeps me
like a bag
of tea
in drizzle, dew
and mist—
so I lift
me up and
squeeze me out
and plunk myself back
in the house.

Loose-y Toothy

Dear Readers,

Two recent trips to the dentist have reminded me of a common childhood experience–losing teeth.

So, in tribute to my dentist, and to children—everywhere—who’ve ever lost a tooth (or will lose one soon), I give you . . .

Loose-y Toothy

My tooth is loose,
my gum is sore.
I just can’t take it

A wiggle left,
a jiggle right,
I’ll get it out
in one more bite—

But . . . suddenly . . .
my wiggle-finger’s
turning red!

I think it’s blood,
but I’m not sure—
until I see it
on the floor.

My gore has turned
the carpet brown.
I grab a towel
and swab it round.

But what a mess
is on that rug—
morsels, crumbs,
a million bugs!

That’s when I find—
to my surprise—
among the fries.

Goodbye, Summer!

Dear Readers,

Sorry I’ve been away. This has been a busy summer, and I’ve been devoting my energy to One Charming Cat (January 2016).

But here’s my question for the day . . . what is the value of light verse?

In the meantime, here’s one last nod to summer . . .

Swimmin’ Pool

Swimmin’ pool, swimmin’ pool
I’m your local swimmin’ fool.
See your sparkle, see your blue
ain’t nothing comin’ ’tween me ’n you.

Swimmin’ pool, swimmin’ pool,
hot dogs, June bugs, summer school.
Feel your water, feel your ice—
Ooooooh—don’t that feel nice!

Summertime: Beachballs, Bathing Suits & Frilly Nails



A fungus lives
inside my
he says
his name
is Fergus.

He’s rude
he’s crude—
I hate this dude!
But, worst of all,
he will not move!
And when I
try to rout
him out,
he rears
his itchy head
and says:
“I’d vacate
in a minute,
if I could
new shelter.
But I’ve
no other
place to
So stay
I must,
and swelter!”

My voice
grows shrill,
my tone is
I cannot
from screaming:
“My toe shack’s
my nooks
are booked,
my feet
are raw
and blistery.
So please
get out—
don’t make me shout—
I’m sick
of all your

“Don’t kid
he answers,
“your foot’s
no Grand Hotel—
it’s pink,
it stinks,
it sweats
and swells.
In summertime
it’s hot as h_ll.”

Oh, how I hate
this loathsome
How much
I want
oust him!
But nothing
not soap
or steam
or gel
or cream.
A knife would
do the trick,
of course,
but at
too great
a cost:
because without
my dear, sweet feet
(no matter how infected),
I would not know
which way to turn—
and I would be
forever lost.

Summer’s Here–the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Dear Readers,

I don’t know why, but I’m not keen on change.  Any kind of change.  My mother often says I balked about going to kindergarten. And I remember feeling bad when I aged out of single-digits–worse when I left my teens for my 20s!

So it probably won’t surprise you to hear I’m loathe to change seasons, too–even when that means leaving a ‘bad’ season (cold stark winter) for a lovely one, like spring.  So spring into summer?  Forgetaboutit!  

Still, I have to admit, change has it’s virtues. It just takes me a while to appreciate them.  So here’s to summer–and it’s happy upsides . . .

1.  I get to see my kids more.

2.  We go to the beach for a week.

3.  No more getting up for school at 7 AM.

4.  And no homework for kids to stress over.

5.  Even better, no more school lunches for me to make. Yay!

6.  I get to read books for fun–not just ‘good’ books.

7.  Thunderstorms–I love ’em!  They were one of the things I missed most when I lived in CA.

As for summer’s downside–well, you know–it’s hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot . . . .

Thanks for stopping by.  Here’s a little poem to help you cool off and enjoy this wacky weather–

A Growing Boy

my stomach
is a fiend,
I swear!

No matter
what is
on my plate,
my tummy
another taste.

I feed it
and night,
but all it
wants is
“one more bite.”

my eating
never ends,
it’s not for me—
it’s for
“my friend.”

Hide ‘n Seek

I wonder where
the blackbird went—
the one who sang
all night?
I wonder why
this songbird hides
whenever it is light?

Does he fear
the chilly
or does he just
the night?