Brrr . . .

It is cold this morning.

Everything is still.
Even the shriveled
leaves are asleep,

their molecules hibernating
until the sun shines again.

The dogs go out, but come
back moments later
when they smell toast,
chancing that the possibility
for a handout
is greater than

the discomfort from
the brrr
of the winter morning.

Trash

I pick up trash by the street.
I fill a garbage bag
with whiskey bottles, fast food debris,
and unmentionables.

I wonder if these gifts appear
through some miscomprehension
of the free-speech doctrine
guaranteed by the constitution,

or if the trash's disposition
is the result of civil
or divine disobedience,

or perhaps, if some of the drivebys
are just thoughtless
or downright angry
gestures.

Not without Money

A poem about money.
Hardly likely, she said.

Money is crass, cold. It comes
from the wrong side of the brain, he said.

We need to wash our hands often
and well when we touch money.
It is laden with germs and viruses.
A living depository, she continued,
for all things evil and small.

But what about a box of chocolate?
I said. You can't have such things
without money.

A necessary evil, she said, and
besides, can't you steal a box?

And go to hell? he said.

(Thanksgiving) Warts

This morning I was sent a picture
of a man who was half tree.

He has an uncontrollable case
of warts and his limbs look
like the roots of a tree.

I suppose that he might have
a future in a freak show, but
otherwise there doesn't seem
much, on this special day,
for him to be thankful.

The odd thing, as I consider
my minor aches and pains,
is that he carries such
an enormous smile
on his face.

Seeing Through

As if I had surgery for nearsidedness,
now that the leaves have fallen,
I see the horizon line,
so carefully hidden a week ago by the leaf-laden trees.

I should know more now,
being able to see through my former reality.
I can tell where
the earth ends and the sky begins,
and if I was a little wiser I could create
joy and harmony on Earth, or even with the neighbors
who complain about where the leaves have fallen.

It is much colder today,
suggesting that winter is on its way.
What was opaque is now transparent.
What was middle aged is now becoming old.

Am I Proud?

I'm continually being asked if I'm proud
of the accomplishments of my kids.
I noticed that I'm always confused and
just nod "yes," to be polite.

In the same way that I'm not
proud of Einstein for his
special theory of relativity
(I had no part
in its creation),
I feel that what my kids
have done was often in spite
of my advice that would
have only taken them to
places they didn't want to go
and/or shouldn't have gone after all.

Choices

Sometimes our lives are about making choices.
We come to a fork in the the road,
our GPS isn't getting the proper satellites
and we find ourselves facing a serious dilemma,

A Buddhist said that people who meditate
to make choices get more confused.
Maybe it is the clarity
that makes the choice harder not easier
because the meditator sees all the
ramifications of the potential decisions.

Freud recommended that we flip a coin
and see how we feel about the coin's decision.
I tried this and 8 out of 10 times
the coin was wrong.
I scolded it severely.