Watching Rain Fall

Another in a series of rainy days. I’m in a pensive mood. Hypoglycemia does little to quell thoughts of negativity.

Everything is so green–including my fast-growing lawn. I tend to assume that everything will always stay the same. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Changes can sometimes be hard to deal with. Natural disasters, first, come to mind. Rampant volcanic lava flows in Hawaii. Wildfires in the Western states.

Closer to home, it’s almost high hurricane season. What will the season bring? Try not to dwell on such things–even with constant news coverage.

As much as we like to think we are in control, nature refuses to be controlled.  Last year it was hurricane Harvey–copious amounts of rain–the likes of which no one had ever seen.


Busiest vacation in recent  memory.

This Saturday morning, with my spouse off on a shopping venture with daughters and grand-daughter–I’ll be left to look after our collection of three dogs.

When someone moves into a new house, the work never seems to end.  Yesterday, it was moving in a dining room set.

Fall leaf colors fell short of expectations.  With the exception of this morning, it’s been too warm.  In the next two weeks, after I’m gone, leaves will be at peak coloration.

Next trip will be for Thanksgiving. That’s only a few weeks away.  Where has the year gone?


woman looking  at watch 2

Goody, Goody, Goody
Exclaimed every media
Outlet across the land
Get back the same hour
Lost, last spring
Somewhere, in
Time and space
What will you do
With your extra time?
As if, it were a gift
Blah, Blah, Blah

Bright daylight
Streamed in at six
Get up! My body said
It’s really seven–you’re late
This earth rock
Spins in regular
Twenty-four hour cycles
Hours can’t be bought
Bartered, or traded
Perhaps daylight saving time
Is needed more in winter
To quell the darkness
When days grow shorter?

Time, time, time
Look what’s become of me
While I looked around for my possibilities
I was so hard to please

“Hazy Shade of Winter,” Paul Simon–


murder of crows 2

Sullen skies
Pouted, weeped
For summer
Dampened earth
Green meadows
Crows, called
From barren trees

Red taillights
In the distance
Tires, on wet
Made, noises
Not, unlike
Frying bacon

Imploded, into
Weariness, as
Work voices
Faded, into