Weight & Lightness

 

In morning, a thousand plans;

afternoon finds me recumbent

Hours become like contraband

and my plans undone but done with.

I feel unchanged, sitting by the window

but tire at the slightest exertion.

I watch as the evening bends low

and wonder at vitality's desertion.

But my mind! Imagination grown brighter!

While a simple chore leaves me breathless.

So I poeticize or read another chapter

and for the moment feel light, lifted, deathless. 

____________

for What's Going On? -- March of Time.

I have been a sad child and a wild addict and a recovering person, a long-time employee, been married and raised a son, been divorced and started over, called myself straight and LGBTQ, and I end as I began, with a love of dogs and poetry. What a long, strange trip it's been, but I am happy where I have landed. 

Don't forget that the Word Garden Word List remains active through Sunday. 

Music: Fleetwood Mac Landslide

Lies I Tell Myself

Born to make up stories,
here's one I told myself
last night
so as not to cry,
because
crying upsets my new puppy.

I told myself whoppers
just as if I were a country rube;
stuff about wooden porches,
citronella torches,
and a '64 Pontiac painted custom blue.

I'm old
and will just get more so;
any warm body I'm likely to touch,
lay down with me a good long while ago.
But Goddess bless lies,
cos Jesus loves a little yarn.

So I told myself
--on a particularly lonely night--
--so as to spare puppy any perplexity--
that it was sweet July
and a baby blue beauty had just come for me up the gravel way.

I was about to say
that the driver, with her arm stretched lazy across the wheel,
was Emmylou;

but no.
I made it better.
She was you.
_______

For Corey at Real Toads. He said to write about your first car, but mine was just a nondescript hand-me-down on its last legs, so I have written about something else, but still a car. I don't think Corey will take away my lily pad for this small infraction, will he?