PICKETT FENCE
Look at life
Walking down the fence
Dragging my stick
From one to the other
Click click click
Something about it
The movement sound
Feeling in my hand
Cracks on the sidewalk
Moving by
Don’t step on one
Or you’ll
A few Phlox
Reach through
Smiling and playful
A little anthill popping up
They never stop
Do they
Always building
Cleaning
Duck under the purple
Butterfly bush
Covered with fluttering life
Click click click
Time seems to slow down
The warmth of
The afternoon sun
Blots in and out
From behind the leaves
Warming my face
The old lady waves
From the screened in
Porch where she sits
All day knitting
For a moment
I feel I’m stopped
And everything is
Moving past
I look
At life
HORSE SENSE
Something you learn
From New England
Grandmothers
Nowhere else
Amid the chaos of youth
Tearing at me from all sides
Was a voice
Not the first
Nor the loudest
Or most demanding
When all had settled
A piece of wisdom
Here and there
Just enough to expose
The wrongs
Reinforce the rights
A reservoir fills slowly
Then remains a body at rest
A scale in a different form
There is a balance
In everything if you know
Where to look
She gave me little pieces
Of life’s map
The one with
Truth on the front
When it folds up neatly
Each piece just
Where needed
And when
I often stop and think
What would she say
About this
ILLUSIONS
How the world looks
Through beliefs
From others
More interested
In themselves
And what they have
Than the young
Impressionable me
The aging me looking
For a spot to fit into
The old me
Seeking a personal path
Around the obstacles
Of indifference
Illusions are invisible
Therein lies their power
Crush a budding flower
Of the wrong color
The dandelion free lawn
Of intent and control
What will they think
Of me no less
As they drive by
Judging from behind the
Bench of a better car
Than mine
Fashionably dressed
Opinionated
Convinced manipulated
I sit quietly yawn
Look at something
As it is
Perhaps I’ll get closer today
One step is enough
I cast one illusion at a time
Into the dark pool
Of disbelief
