Nothing for Granted

Practical Gift

Whadaya give a lover who has everything?

What might your lover want more of -
or more than
what is already at hand.

What would a lover most love to have -
Something they’d really love.
Something more than usual perhaps.

And yet -
something sublime.

Perhaps - Seconds ! !

FPS
12.9.23
4.13.1.7

Like that…
Petty much just like that !

The fizz in an opened bottle of champagne.

The crackle of a fresh wood fire upon the hearth.

Twinkling of ice accepting a drink.

Sizzle of a steak set upon a hot pan.

Ding of the coffee maker declaring a fresh pot.

The toaster done and popping up.

Twinkling of a candle just lit.

Pretty much just like that !
Is how I feel
when looking up to see you walk in the kitchen
any morning of any day.

You not quite awake
a bit disheveled
Looking to get a cup and
a few quiet moments
in an overstuffed chair -
giving me a sidelong glance
knowing how I am.

Percolating !

FPS
12.6.23
I can wait …

Sense of it

May you ever have clarity of sight .
May you ever be able to hear in perfect pitch .
May you ever have the tenderness of touch
and the lusciousness of taste smell .
So that you may never fail to notice
my love luminous
everyday -

- hoping you would love me just as well.

FPS
11.28.23
4.21.14.20

Second helping

The morning you said, “I do.”
I sat stirring my coffee
looking out at spring
coming into the gardens
thinking of us.

Of what once was.

The vows you’d say this day
to love always and forever
no matter what the burden or cost -
I know would be true
unless life had other plans
as it did for me -
and you .

Holding the warm cup in my hands
paused before my lips -
I hoped you’d found
what your heart has been searching for
that you’d once found in me -
before the seasons changed
and winter with a cruel frost
settled upon our love
before we could harvest
our dream.

Peach jam on toast was smooth and sweet
delicious as our love once used to be.
And I thought before I was through
that I’d have another helping.

‘Another helping’, I thought -
that is what you were doing today.
Having another helping.

And though our love had become dry and tasteless -
the memories were sweet enough of love
so that though our own portions had run out
we hadn’t lost faith in love
and the courage to dare
to love again.

I would have another helping.

FPS
9.26.23
for second helpings all

For Love’s sake

I love when you kiss me suddenly, my love.
Like you want to say something
you need to say
with that soft silent kiss.

Oh how I love such.

And I love when you say, “ I love you.”
Suddenly spoken
during a moment in the day
when we together
are at some shared living chore
or just being
together.

And my love - will you tell me more…

I would love to know
how loving me touches your soul.

What is it that makes you choose me
to give so much of your precious life to.

What do you see when you notice me
and stop
to just look at me
in some unanticipated moment
when we are together
in the same place
you chose to put yourself in
with me.

What is it you see ?
Who are you looking at ?
. . . .
I stand in front of a mirror
looking at what I see
silently
familiar
and settled in the story
of the image in front of me
about all there is to this someone
standing there
that I have written about myself.
So love -
tell me love,
what you have written in you heart
about this someone -
this me -
whom of all the world
all that you have ever loved
all you have ever known of -
that in this time so fleeting
you find what you need
in this me before you

Tell me please -
so that I can see the same in me
and give to myself
the same as you might say
I give to you.

So that I can give
perhaps even more of
that you love
to you.

FPS
9.17.23
For our love’s sake

Spell & grammar correct

I often thought I did my own writing.
I write, edit myself and correct -
as preferred.

I choose the words I like to use
to express what I want folks to read -
how I want to be heard.

I read over my lines
and when satisfied that I’ve written
what I wanted to say
I breathe a sigh of satisfaction
then copy, paste and send away
confident
into the internet’s public space.

Then low and behold later I’m told
that some reader doesn’t quite understand.
Because what they read is not what I’d thought I said
when I first typed the words that they found.

It seems there is another editor at work
uninvited into my world.
Some anonymous decider who has an opinion
something other than what I preferred.

Instead this linguistic intruder has changed the words I wrote
to say -
what this chimera thought better said
to be read in a different quote.

Now I find myself in an awkward way
not wanting to offend -
but I’m getting quite frustrated now
by this faceless
opinionated
disembodied
‘spell check and grammar correct’
AI -
Friend???

With whom I can’t seem to see eye
too aye!

FPS
9.3.23
4 Sharyn- a good word catcher

I think it’s beautiful - don’t you…

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder!”*

We each have eyes for beauty
We see that clearly in those we love.
We are swooned by beauty of some person, place,
or thing
that others don’t.

Beauty such that some might wonder
why we are enamored of a sight
that another might see
and find less alluring -
frown and look away.

Couples are so like that.
We meet them on the street
and look from face to face
and wonder of the attraction
perhaps we cannot see.

But love sees all
and can perceive
the beauty of the whole -
the beauty found beyond a face
or figure
into one’s heart and soul.

That is of such as love is made
between two sets of eyes
who see the beauty pure to them
and commit their heart and lives.

And then a home is to be made
and beauty decisions are appraised
to choose shape, color and decor
and what shall be placed about
to enrich living behind closed doors.

That’s when beauty becomes bows
to the preference
of one eye
and some beauty seen by only one
will hang in the garage.

FPS
8.26.23
4 E&K
and the delight of beauty’s debate

*M.W. Hungerford,
et al… through the ages

Cliff

A Cliff I came upon
invited me to the edge
to stand a while
and gaze upon all there is to see.

All the possibilities.

I did not jump.

I was pushed

And flew.

FPS
7.21.23
4CL

She is

She has given in
She has gone along
She has given up
She has fallen
She has failed
She has been derailed
distracted
She has been fooled
She has been used
abused
She has been bored
ignored
chosen over
left behind
inconsidered
She has been misabused
misled of love
Thought the better of
She has been in love
and lost
She was in love again
and again
She has been in love
and won
She has dreamed dreams
disappeared in thin air
She believed

She still does

She has been in darkness
and turned on lights
She has rolled over
sad sleepless nights
and cried
and got up again.

She has weathered what came her way
and grinned.

She has withstood
and stood again

She has beared
been stooped by weight
bent but would not break

She could do it all again.

She has.

She does.

She is.

She still Dares.

Not the least bit otherwise.

FPS
6.12.23
ResilieNt

Love is love !

God is love!
Love happens upon us a surprise unintended.

Except for God -

who meant what was done
when it all begun
no mistake in the intention -
to give life
to love in creation
and love what was done.

Love is love!
Make no mistake in understanding
we all have love of .. .
we all have love for .. .
something . ..
some one . . .
Ourselves!

God asks only
that we love each other!

Just Love.

Life is as simple as that.

God meant what was intended.

There was no mistake.

I’ll guess God is curious
to learn if the creation
that was done to perfection
can learn to love without reservation -
to see and love that reflection
of ourselves
there in every face we meet.

Life really is as simple as that . . .
to love is the purity of living.

Love is love!

FPS
6.1.23
4 jb, db, ga, dc, ts, et al

Strawberries

You smiled
as you slowly chewed the sweet plump strawberry
I gave you -
so thoroughly savoring every bite
flowing across your tongue.

Watching you enjoy that heart shaped delight
I didn’t tell you about the red strawberry juice drop
slowly falling
from the corner of your mouth
to your chin.

I thought
I’d rather like to kiss it off
when you were done.

FPS
5.27.23
Sorry love. I’ll tell ya next time.

Happy birthday to an amazing woman Nancy 🌷
Whose heart is enormous with love and kindness enough for everyone.
Who cares …
Who is so easy to love.
Who is a brilliant educator
And the best kind is of friend.

I’m not going to miss Greg Lago

He was always image imaging
playing with color and line in mind.
Always working with visions of images brought to life
that he thought folks should see what he’d find.

He was always considering splendid compositions
of a season’s subtle scenes
of life’s everyday moments he noticed
right there in front of you and me.

So often unseen.

He captured characters worth remembering
pulling their personalities out of any medium with chisels, hammers,
knives, brushes, pencils and pens.

All of this I’ve seen.

So much of him hangs on walls in rooms and halls in my home.

I don’t think I’ll miss Lago at all.

Oh sure I’ll wish for another conversation
on a lazy day when we might connect.
When he could talk
about art
or politics-
or the army
or the latest town gossip.

Sure would like to do that again.
He knew lotsa good stuff worth knowing.

And I’d like to see that wry smile again
the one he seemed to always wear.
And that glint of his eye
like he could saw through all the crazy rigamarole
of the absurd of this beautiful life.

And I’d like to drop in on him again
at Winged Bull Studio
where he might be conjuring art from thin air
onto some surface
with pleasant purpose on his weathered face.
And I’d stand and watch as he worked and talked
and might have a story to share.
And I’d marvel at the way he worked like a craftsman of consummate skill.

I’d like that.

I’m not going to miss him though.

Because he’s hanging about my house everyday.
And I stand or sit and look upon his work
and think that he is right here in his art
with me.

I’m not going to miss him.

But I sure wish he hadn’t died.
At least not yet.

FPS
5.15.23
You probably feel the same

All of a sudden !

I kissed him that once.

It seemed in the moment
like the right thing to do.

We were just standing there.

And I kissed him again
because I could.

And he let me.

And then again.

And again.

Until I was lost
in his mouth
his taste
his heat.

This wasn’t something I normally did.
But he was willing
and I needed this.

I kissed him again
lingering upon his lips.

And I kissed him again
after taking a breath.

After looking in his eyes
smiling
and with a soft laugh
I kissed him again.

That was it…

FPS
3.31.23

4 4.1.14 n 5.4

Back

Back - always back.
“I’ll call ya back. “

How come we never call anyone forward ?
Or to the front
Or onward.
Noooo
Always 'Back'.

What's with that.

Everything I got is facing front -
Except for the truck.

But that ain't what you're talking about.

Back indeed!

“I’ll call ya back.”

We shall see.

I’ll look forward
to talking to you tomorrow.

FPS
3.31.23
4 3.8.9.13
Ahem…

Rox granola

I rose this morning before the sun
a smile already on my face
jump out of bed in eager haste
dress comb my hair and wash my face -
brush my teeth
smiling all the while -
then give a wink to my mirrored self there
and skipping steps descend the stair.

With impatient hands go to the fridge
pull out all the fruits and jams I see
and the yogurt fresh
and chilled - so sweet -
mouth watering as it all gets mixed
into a yawning bowl that waits -
then to the cupboard for the final flourish
to complete this morning’s healthy nourish -

and low discover to sad regret
all Roxanne’s granola has been ‘et.

The smile has dropped off my face
and clouds have flowed across the sun.
Now how can I start this day with joy
and greet bright hellos to all I meet
without having begun to live it well
when there is none of Rox’s granola
to eat.

FPS
3.24.23
For Roxanne Ridley
The queen of crunch

Winona Woods

I took a walk in woods today
that became a sit.

I intended to enjoy the forest
just walking through it.

Instead I came upon a spot
dappled with sun and shade.
Where all about were every hue of green
of brown
and black and gray.
When a bird song came upon a breeze
and some ferns and a stump nearby
softly
bid me stop
and stay
a while.

So I did.

FPS
2.12.23
4 Bud ‘n Cassidy
‘n Dennis

I am happy it is our anniversary- 38 years - 40 since we met.

I’d do this adventure with you -
All over again.

“You poem you”

You are all
that rhymes
for me.

You are all the right words
and pure rhythm.

Your love is the point -
the expression -
the siren call of the muse
for me.

You are the poem
I love the most.

I memorize you
everyday.

FPS

When I am old

When I am old
they will whisper after me -
“He’s a crazy old bastard.”
given to inappropriateness,
naughty allusions and sometimes
tactless -
full of laughter
unashamed.

They will shake their heads with opinion
about my not growing old quietly or -
be scandalized over my fashion and color scheme or -
the wine stains on my teeth.

When I am old
I will be openly in love with the days and nights
and her -
always a bit tired
because I’ve just too much to do
with big unrealistic plans for more living.

I will be secretly envied - me – “the old coot”
who plays with children and spoils their desires -
listens to music too loud, plays air guitar and sings -
always has some dirt under his nails from chasing weeds or
rummaging about a work bench in an old barn fixing
something for next spring.

Now that I’m old.

FPS

Winter

With cold prediction
the inevitable season arrives.

So much before – less to come.

This was never a safe journey - really
nor were there any lasting good roads

There has been no bad weather
just the wrong clothes.

So much behind now – unsure what lengths to go.

. . . . . .

Warm seasons pass so swiftly
soon only memories will be left
there have been few squandered days lamented
or doors unopened yet

Gravity triumphs upon my face
senses become less sound
I hold less tight to what I have
what you see is not a frown

I’ll not go south
to chase the sun
I take the seasons as they come

Much weathered now
and slightly bent
I am not from this journey spent

And though my eyes now droop and cowl
you’ll see them twinkle
yet a while.

FPS

70 years - It seems rather surprising that I’ve made it this long☀️ feels pretty good!

Just a thought…

I’m not sure how it happens.
It does and I can’t explain it.
I’ve no complaint.

But every now and then
when I’m into something else
thoughts of you drift into mind -
almost impatient.
Fresh -
like I meant it.
Bright.
Warm and smiling -
like you always seem to me to be.

For that moment
I’m distracted
thinking
sooner or later
I will see you
right there -
and perhaps
you’ll kiss me!

FPS
10.16.22
4NTS

Pluviophile

All day it rained.

A warm steady windless wet sweet rain
almost soundless
breaking the hot drought.

Everything seemed to pick its head up to drink.

Watching from the porch
I am misted -
wondering where all this water has come from.

How much of this earth of us
is in each of the gentle drops of life
landing softly.

Whose life is in each drop
that may have evaporated
off someone’s brow so far away
to come as rain
refreshing this day
and now nourishing mine.

FPS
8.21.22

Pluvia: Latin for rain.

August

Oh I don’t want it to be August already.

It seemed early May just yesterday -
when we eagerly planted gardens
for a luscious harvest
imagined for August -
still long days away.

I don’t want it to be August.
I’m not ready for it to be.

I’ve not lain lazy long enough by the river reading.

I haven’t tired of watering gardens in the rising morning light.

I’m still attending to my plants’ young lives
pushing my hands through soft soil pulling weeds
coaxing stems from the earth
that I remember when were seeds.

Can’t we delay this month a bit.
I’ve got more June to do yet -
and now it looks as though July is gone by too
like an impatient wren chick
taken wing from a nest
flitting about now overjoyed
chasing after everything.

But I don’t want it to be August just yet.
I’ve got too much July living left.

I’m not ready to wake to that silent August day
when birds have all flown south
leaving quiet autumn on the horizon for me.

And the canning would all be put up.

Can’t I have a little more summer.
Perhaps more cricket serenade
wafting like a breeze
to charm a hot still afternoon
as I nap cooly beneath a shade tree.

FPS
8.5.22

Indulge

I just finished the roast beef wrap
with lettuce and mayo
while sitting in shade by the river.

I had cranberry juice with seltzer
to jazz it up.

She read a book next to me
lounging lovely in the sun.

I had some chips also.

Summer has just begun
and I’m going to indulge
in some palette pleasures for the season
that otherwise
I’ll forego when autumn
puts me into more clothes.

Oh
and I had a few Oreos.

She did too -
smiling as she turned back to her book.

FPS
7.12.22

For her, reading a book
right there
next to me

Something to consider

I think I’ll become a drunk.

Not a surly one.
Not obnoxious.
Not given to smelling of soiled pants
or retched breath
slurring morose opinion on the vagaries
of love.

Being a drunk might suit me well.

A quiet friendly one I’d be.
Probably alone.

I could wallow in besotted self-pity,
numb.
While the world passes me by
avoiding contact
with our eyes.

I’d spend quality time with a bottle.

Talk to myself about better times
and broken hearts
from when the love I had -
the passion for living
withered into empty companionship
like a cherished plant gone dry and brown
in a clay pot by the window
unattended -
but still there
where it once was lush
with hope and life.

I’d drink to that.

FPS
5.4.22

For those who might sometimes sit in the dark and wonder…

Someday -
when suddenly one early morning
the last of the milk has spilt,
the diaper’s are way past changing
and now you realize
you’ll both be late for work -
the laundry is piling up
dry-cleaning hasn't been pick up
and it all seems so
exacerbating…
Stop -
Look at one another
smile and wink…

Because only you two will remember
this moment -
This wonderful moment
wrought from the love -
the decision that brought you
to this moment of real living
together.

The kids won’t remember any of this -
this for better or for worse of a life
together
that you wanted
when you two
risked all
and said
yes!
FPS

Seasons’ best

Of all - I love the season best
of tantalizing more is less.

That season so longed for
through long days so short -
when more is less.
while the sun sails slowly across the sky
at its lowest.

And I sigh.
Waiting.

I do love that season when
winter white
turns to brown, then green again -
of late sundowns -
air full of bird song.
The heat on
all day long.

That’s the season I love best.

Of ever luscious more is less
when little to be guessed is left -
Oh I love that season best,
- when more is less.

Delighted often in that season
having to pause to catch my breath -
distracted
in my steps
turning round
following a flowing
pink sundress!

5/24/18
Like Chim

Local

Everybody talks about
everybody.
If they don’t know ya yet,
- you new comer you -
Soon enough they will you can bet.

You’ll be the hot topic of interest,
discussed over beers, wine and ci******es.

Everyone will be curious about you …
who you are -
what you do -
what you’re up to -
How you live.

If you’re local, you’re curious.

Everyone - everywhere local is.

Don’t be precious about your privacy,
when you’re local not much here about ever is.

Think of locals as just being curious.
Be glad your town folks is.

For one day you may find yourself in a pinch.

And them curious neighbors will come
with a generous hand
to give…

… and still be just as curious.

FPS
5.14.22
for D. Ridley local