Greet the one all creation adores,
crowned the goad-ess of weddings and wars.
She is immortallized
as a feast for men’s eyes,
but she’ll not let them get in her drawers!
Whenever I’m in search of feed,
a deviled egg is all I need.
This worries me, because I fear
it’s angeled eggs I should revere.
Closed book am I,
cover-only showing;
all bound and stitched
up tight against
the knowing.
It was the summer of 1974,
and he had never felt before
the restless longing of his youth
for something to hold up as truth.
I came across a question yesterday
that troubled me enough to pose it here.
“What is the meaning of Memorial Day?
Why do we celebrate it every year?”
A happy birthday to myself!
I just turned sixty-one.
I’d like to say that things are great
and getting old is fun.
It was Charleston in the fall,
no other bodies there to bend
the energy, just you and me (us…we),
begetting child-free memories to own.
A dad is an anchor when things go quite wrong
and a fan club when things go quite right.
He’s there to protect you when you’re super scared
of those things that go “bump” in the night.