last November morning…

last November morning this year

the ice chunks of unknown white stuff
(which reminds me of some kind of soap)
it a bit thicker this morning – at around seven thirty
(kind of like the bucket of suds used to wash a car
or a dog…tossed into the overflow street drain…
which is for weather runoff and is not a sewer…)
one would think everyone knew that…apparently not.

just about two hundred feet from the street, the
creek flows unseen from most of the neighborhood
(the benefits of living on the outskirts of the development)
there are disadvantages…but mostly advantages
(like observing the wildlife, mostly when it is warmer)
in every season – there is a piece of peace.
only disturbed by those brave enough to go to the edge…

©JP/davh

a stitch in the stream of consciousness

a stitch in the stream of consciousness

after eighteen hours of rain
the creek rose – again
now, just enough of a break
to dislodge the mess this morning…

so much to be thankful for
being able to have a home
being able to have support
being able to reach…and you are there

after all the seconds, minutes and hours tick
the loom of life
still holds our threads fast
binding the revolutions of evolution

©JP/davh

Next year…

Next year – gift cards!
(Maybe)

decorated paper,
tape of different widths,
strength and length
fold, flip, fiddle,
fit some into boxes to be shipped
over land, maybe in a train or plane
east, north, and south
the west ones stay put
(for the moment)

fancy stamps on weighty boxes
like patterns decorate
(their faces)
some for opening upon arrival
others to wait until the time is right
for unwrapping
and now with hours of work
behind me…
time for napping

©JP/davh

routine

routine

left my glasses in the house
no use to wear something that
would just get steamed up
in weather that is below freezing
to do my morning chore of
dislodging the collected debris
in what I call the elbow of the
fallen tree…

hat on my head, mittened hands,
and layered clothing for my
morning trek… crunching the
morning dew under foot about
one hundred healthy paces down
to the bank with another ten on
the ‘bridge’ and log – it’s a fine
balance…

tottering there – with my crooked
sort of pitch-fork like tool spooning
the leaves both large and small,
up and over they go – as they would
have just floated by if the the tree
were not there…along with whatever
branches may have worked their way
down stream…

©JP/davh