Dash of Laughter

A sweet little joint
Sometimes rockin’

Right now, not
A bit too quiet for me
But it’s the eve of Sunday eve

The neighbors and I are done in the yards
Rolling up the sidewalks
Thinking about what to cook for Sunday supper

Here tonight, it’ll be your favorite
Anything I’d prepare, you said
So shall it be

Lots of color, but only a dash of laughter
We’ve run low since you’ve gone

This sweet little joint of a home
Why did you burn it down?

Something Gardens

A sunny day

On this, the fore-edge of Spring

It looks like something good happens here

In this, the place they renamed, “Something Gardens”

Although I see really only billboards and bungalows and bulldozed-over housing projects

And strangely, no gardens

But there is the color and promise upon everyone’s skin

The special sauce in people’s blood

So I become sure

I plan to see the Something Good that happens here -those “Something Gardens” that mean to grow

So I stay and I work

I help

I sow, that someone else may reap

I wait

And I see that I, too, grow

Picket Fences

The white-washed picket fence has blown open again, inviting the varying voices that be

An opportunity, this open door, this moment, and I stick my snowy-white foot in its way

Ajar it will stay, for I’m bolder today and my eyes see the truth ‘neath the paint chipped away

Thirty Percent

A fence may draw the eye, asking, will you act as friend?

What when we keep the Others out, what will that make us then?

Can’t we, won’t we alter fate of each whole soul, alike;

A fence with strong and welcome gate, a fence not stained by white.