November 13

FLORAL ECSTASY

I could eat fields of buttercups and drink down ponds of water lilies.  Wear foxgloves and a pair of lady slippers, too.  I could wrap myself in bridal wreathe and underpin with nettles.  I could rise with the roses, lay with the lilies, shade with the sage, sing with the trumpet vines and run away from home with a Turk's cap on my head and a pansy in my pocket, until the four o’clocks say it’s time to come home for evening primrose and then bed.

Increase your tool chest by one.

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When I’m Gone

When I’m gone ……

I hope they’ll say I tried real hard and did my best

But more likely will be the lament;

she didn’t live up to her potential.

When I’m gone ……

I pray the song will be one of tinkling bells and uplifted voices

But more likely is a disparate confusion of musical chairs.

When I’m gone ……

I wish that my banner will be raised by knowing arms

But more likely will be a shuffle of my undecipherable notes,

then the circular file.

When I’m gone ……

I would like my dreams to fly

to the ears and eyes of friends and take refuge

But more likely these dreams will chase me down the long corridor

and be nothing but my shadow in the long dark night.