Lefty

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Uncertainty, my enemy -it roams inside my ribs.

I wonder with deep-seated fear, just how will I do this?

Though morning maketh all things new, by eve’ I dance decrepit

It seems the voice inside my head desires me unaccepted

Mother Road

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What is the name of that road? The spirit and purpose of it? The one we approach, day in and day out, without hesitation?

Familiar with the smell of it, the distractions, attractions and tourist traps along the way, but unsure, in the dark, where to turn when it’s time, finally time, for a rest stop.

Trust, we must, the touch. The feel of our wheels we were gifted, from The Road of all roads, The Mother.

Olive

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Birds in the rain

I overheard this morning

One, an albino-breasted Robin lady

The other, the always-humble female Cardinal

A Noticer, that Robin was, and piped right up to ask

“Are you sick, Miss Olive?”

“Heartsick,” Olive sang sadly

Belying her humility, but with head still hung low

“I’ll always believe I was the better bird.”

True Love

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Itching, constant itching…and seltzer in my veins.

Given to despair and doom…giving back all gains.

This is how I feel from you…my inglorious lot.

None fiction be more dark than this…none epic, evil plot.

Baseball

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I don’t want to live this yet, Springtime

For, every time the birds and bees and all manner of creatures and things -good sports and bad- migrate back

There’s the media storm, the tough talk, the hype, the great expectations placed in the wrongest of wrong places

So I will close my eyes and wait, Springtime