Monday, September 5, 2016


Your suitcase in hand,
we walked the length of the driveway in silence.

It felt wrong to speak when the neighborhood
was still dark and asleep.
What was there to say anyway?
Good morning?
It wasn't morning yet.

We kissed good-bye
thru the open car window.

My fuzzy blue robe was wet from
leaning against the morning dew on the door.

If I knew that was going to be my last kiss
I would have lingered a moment longer.
Maybe brushed my teeth and combed
thru the knots in my hair.

I smiled, waved and mouthed "see you soon"
when you drove away.

I never saw you again.

Sunday, September 4, 2016


You have arrived again.
Always catching me by surprise.
The air smells different.
The floor is cold.
I need a pair of slippers for my feet.

Instead of slippers I cover myself with a
blanket and leave all the windows open.

The cat and dog watch a squirrel carrying
walnuts back and forth across the yard.

A crow screeches from a nearby tree.
The cat and dog don't seem to hear him.
They are only interested in the squirrel.

A new backpack and pair
of sneakers sit empty by the door.

I see five brown eyed susan
blooms that need to be cut.
They are shriveled and tired.

In two days the school bus will pull up.
My feet will have shoes on.
The dead flowers will be cut.
This crow will probably still be screaming.
And summer will be over.