this Old House

This old house has seen it all before. The rummaging of angst…The backdoor horrors…

Three crows circling the unkempt gardens, pecking orders for the leftovers.

Descending much like beggars to pennies upon the floor.

This old house…closed for repairs…missing steps in the stairs.

Leaking self depreciating humor…encased in toxic rumor.

This old house…if only you had known sooner.

A foundation built on Christ.

Dining in prayer with the Father and a roll of the dice.

‘Come home.’

I shall tell you now.

I shall tell you now…

what all these years…

you have missed.

“Nail and frail and lying low. A legacy cast no shadow. For it must have not just shape and form, but contempt for danger…or, it only lay shallow.”

“Occasionally, we have to take care of those who once…took care of us. Often leaving, the participants, stuck between wonder-lust and antiquated mistrust.”

the Christmas Bootie

Every year for at least, 20 years, starting in the 70’s…my grandmother would knit Christmas booties for the whole family.

Which leads me to offer up other 70’s Christmas goodies from Xmas past…

The Disco Gown
Jean Nate’ essential oils
Topping the whole outfit off…the Mood Ring
And, no Christmas would be complete without the entertainment!

Some items have stood the test of time. One actually hangs from my dream catcher to this very day!

the Feathered Roach clip

Vagabond Ties

Ashes of particles, light as the air I breathe.

Just a matter of human debris.

How could any of this rationale be anything but our own destiny?

For all we know, dreams that will got away.

And, no amount of substance will make them stay.

Windows we once believed to be clear as day?

Simply fixed particles, for an imaged display.

Basic explanations to love’s effort…that will go about…its own way.

I have tried to reason away the care you give me.

Offered up logical examples for our bliss.

Yet, there always remained a nonsensical skylight’s array to why WE exist.

I am not a poet…but I play one through my words.

Alas, all that I can come up with is

an absolute loving of a vagabond…

still strikes me of being a notion that is absurd.

not So Plain

You see, here, along the northeast…

a mile is forever on a country lane

In the arm’s of nature, Mother’s face, prolongs my existence.

Her silhouette disheveled, fetal and beyond my wandering.

I felt that one step forward and one step back only released my defects.

This lonely, disparaged pond and her trail praises those that are rampant, quiet and egotistically…frail.

So, I come back down (always) a downy lane.

Snowy, horizontally.

Bluster and sustain-ably sane.

Still a history still….not so plain.

Scruff and Stuff

Personally, I think the best way to give your cat a pill is…have your wife, husband, partner…do it!

In all seriousness, I have worked in many animal shelters (and, of course have way too many cats at home) the best way to give your cat a pill is to scruff and stuff. A cat is generally, okay with being scruff-ed. His/Her mother would haul them around by the scruff of the neck…and, the kitten finds it nurturing. Once you have scruff-ed, you stuff the pill to the back of the throat. Less dry effect of a pill stuck in the throat and your pet will appreciate (in the end) not gagging on an antibiotic.