Just Wondering and The Never-Knows
a question
I never had
came to me
though I yearn
to utter it
I’m not sure
I could have
asked you
before
Poetry
Reflections On The Way To The Compost Bin — An Urban Meditation
O Ground beneath our feet,
what realms of life await us?
All bodies like to eat
but the compost bin disgusts us.
From your dark and meagre crust
come the tastiest traded fares.
Yet those who return to dust
would rather put on aires.
We are better than dirt
and our children would be lucky
to wear a white shirt
than get their hands all mucky.
Such highbrow notions
train us not to see
how the farmers’ motions
are worth more than their fee.
Without the faintest care
we devour lavish plates,
leaving your ground bare,
and sealing our common fates.
But here among those
who moil for rusty gold
are some who dare propose
to give thanks before we are old.
Thank you God
for the carrot on my plate
and the sod
from whence it came to date.
Grant Dear Sue good rest.
May her tribe increase.
May her soil be best –
with unseen creepy crawlies never cease.
O Ground beneath our feet
let us not forget,
our dusty destinies entwined shall meet
for God for sure redeems this set.
Early to the bin a bowl of scraps I take
soon upon your face to spread.
Yes, indeed, all will shake,
but together, may we break more bread.
–Watch Living Soil, produced by the Soil Health Institute.
To Impersonate a Lion
To Impersonate a Lion
Dress up a donkey.
Limit donkey’s exposure.
Assume the divine right of kings.
Be a public figure on behalf of the lion.
Talk a lot.
Distract folks with urgent demands.
Give violent commands satisfying old grievances.
Question the inquisitive.
Eliminate truth-tellers.
Reward collective amnesia by threatening to unleash shame.
City Garden Scapes
good fences
good neighbours make
but now we build walls
great cedar walls
now the neighbour
owns the sun
’till middle hours
shorten shadows
and the garden
joyfully awakes
— – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – —
Six Foot Notes
- good grief
- good fences
- permeable are made
- so neighbours joyfully awaken
- to fruit sown long before
- dark shadows fall
Grounds for Play
Eeny meeny, miny moe; catch a tiger, by the toe.
If he hollers, let him go; eeny meeny, miny moe.
Samuel Grisdon Grey the Third went down the stairs to play. His
Nana watched him from the stoop and longed for peace today. All
souls played well in deed and word till Dean’s disproving scowl, called
back his happy children close to hear his whispers foul. He
sent the children out again and Nana breathed relief. She
chatted with his mother saying, “No need for ugly grief.”
Joining hands the children spun their circle fast and tight, till
with a wink, a chirpy shout, their secret plan gave fright. To-
gether on that fateful hour two freed their hands from his. Their
unsuspecting mark flew back and banged that crown of his.
Grounds for play turned red and damp as all turned pale and quiet. Dear
Sammy did not move until his Nana said, “Let’s fight.” “Let’s
fight this scene in prayer and praise the only Holy Name, the
One who knows the wink and cost of every deadly game.” And
so she prayed and so she sang until dear Sammy stood.
“Let’s forgive them Nana, they don’t know what they did.”
Eeny meeny, miny moe; catch a tiger, by the toe.
If he hollers, let him go; eeny meeny, miny moe.