Identity, they say,

Determines quality.

Even says Socrates,

“Knowing thyself brings ease.”

I hear a kindly voice,

“Imagery so lovely,

Thou meter is sublime.

May I linger near your rhyme?”

How shall I know myself?

Only to listen to

The one who etched me on

Thin, paper filament.

My poet said she penned me

With careful thought in mind.

She tells me who I am,

Her dearest love divine....

THURSDAY

Something strange happened today. I understood the trees. When each leaf gently fell among the rustling leaves, I leaned in closely and heard a whisper, “Let go.”

“Let go?” I replied.

“Let go.”

Then, another leaf landed and the soft whisper murmured, “Surrender to Winter.”

“To Winter?” I asked.

“Yes,” it answered. “Spring will come.”

“Spring?”

“Yes. Spring brings life.”

I slowly ...

Fran keeps a clean house; she’s germaphobic. What’s ironic is her job. She drives a garbage truck AND she is the one who throws the trash in the back of the truck. In fact, she’s so efficient; she drives the truck, hops out to get the trash and hops back in to drive to the next stop. Fit as a fiddle—that’s Fran! A one woman show....

So I keep them in my socks

Hidden from all to see

My secrets.

I ripped my socks on sharp rocks

Exposed to all who saw

My nail-less toes,

No longer

My secrets....

Through the back car window

she buried her head

in her mother’s blouse.

She closed her wet eyes,

but I watched her fade

through my dry ones....

oh, I’m so glad the blue sky slowly blew by like a long sigh instead of blowing chunks of bleu cheese on a stormy day....