New Years Day

New Year's Eve

 

Into the Sky I Drift

into the sky I drift,
looking down
on the past—
all I was,
all I only seemed to be,
the borrowed dreams
and stories shared by others,
now softly left behind.

Into the universe I drift,
seeking the cosmos
and all it adores,
trading places with spirits
who lingered here for eons,
or more, if honesty allows.

Seeing, for the first time,
what was imagined
and graciously offered,
from one star to the next
I float in quiet joy—
dreams once distant,
fantasies absorbed and held,
now mine to carry,
my own to claim.

Following Hubble’s footsteps,
or perhaps Webb’s—
who knows? Who cares?
A free traveler am I now,
horizon widening,
leaving lightly behind
what tethered me,
embracing
the endless beyond,
the gentle thrill of drifting,
and the private wonder
of the infinite.

December 30, 2025

Change

we deal with it every day
year and decade,
what we once liked
we do not now or
vica versa as they say...
childish refusal of eggs
the standard meal now,
boxers seemed too baggy
now are wonderful,
alcohol to relax
replaced with rhythms
of a mental kind...
different yet the same,
complex yet simplified
foolish yet full of wisdom
of the ages - a cliche
but applicable in all facets,
we defy understanding
explore the unreasonable,
a mental suitcase in hand
we galivant around
like a strutting show horse,
squared shoulders and proud,
not as we once were...
somehow different this time
growing into what we've become.

December 24, 2025

A Solitude of Sorts

mornings not longer crash in on me
as they did when working,
from rapid fire to slow motion
they have become...
memories no longer remembered
now are lived large
in the fleeting moments
of their existence
passing - all too quickly
into the illusive, not repeated past.
coffee in hand...  always coffee,
a never changing constant,
take me to the porch - nature
an outward sensation
very easily internalized...
calming and quiet
no sounds around...  except
for the ringing in my ears,
an implication of old age and
the never-ending reminder
I'm on the short end of life.

December 24, 2025

Introspection

into ourselves we peer
not knowing what to see
or overlook...
we are curious creatures
outwardly...  but,
inwardly we falter,
hesitate, postpone
and procrastinate.
we mistake demons
for angels,
saints for the sons
of Lucifer, setting
the dinner table for
those who come late
without excuses...
seeking recognition.
inside, we are free
free to explore or hide
free to overlook or
look the other way,
inside we live out the life
of our inner souls that
need refurbishing like
the poorly constructed
kitchen of a politician
whose journey into hell
began on election day.
into ourselves we journey
like Odysseus who escaped
from himself each time
he waged foolish conflicts,
seeing only that which 
he was programmed to see.

December 21, 2025

Aftermath Awakening

wind howls and blows
a devastating curse
through the valley,
akin to nothing before,
havoc raked out
among the homes
like tilling fields...
crazy - its destruction
late night party sweeping
down from the heavens,
descending god like
weaponization, nature
spits out on the ground
among trees and bushes,
below the ground is
frozen soil oblivious
to the onslaught...
a thousand nails
pounded into us like
a closing coffin
prematurely prepared
for its victims that
were late arriving...
a menacing force 
with which we reckoned
in our sleep is the 
most hideous of all.

December 19, 2025

CHRISTMAS DAY

The Holidays

stockings from the mantle hang
trees in corners stand,,
underneath the presents land,
decoration inside hung everywhere
festive is the season...  for some,
for others, this not be true,
no stockings
no tree or presents
no decoration or festivities,
it is just another day
in a neighborhood of closeness
families cling for warmth
around an isolated stove.
an empty pantry signal the
season for most of us,
too proud to ask,
too fearful to ignore
children understand it all
and want not for more
other than the love shared
between them every day.

December 18, 2025

For a Reason

shallow graves
harvested in rows
on either side
of backroads
lead to the clearing
that houses the
buried thoughts
never acknowledged,
never read twice
never considered
as if they were
aborted babies
tossed in the trash
for pickup on 
recycle Thursdays.
shallow graves washed
over by rain and snow,
heat and cold,
cultivated by farmers
for tobacco...
fertilized and fed 
on even days
weeded and pruned
on odd ones...
and not once did the
neighbors complain.

December 17, 2025