Whether the Weather

Whether not the willow

the fiddler

or,

the fall.

Whether within reach of…

the library

the cross in the hall

or

the papers

that paper the wall.

Either a big city under heaven’s hood.

Or,

a shack in the woods.

Either kind-hearted

or,

prone to damnation.

Whether it is unimportant to

you

or,

meaningful to

me.

Weather is not what it

used to

BE.

Kindness and Dignity

For what it is worth

I see you when I climb the stairs a midst stark twilight.

Your dauntless task given unto an endless flight.

A vision of tolerance and safety.

Kindness and dignity.

A shimmering arc focused on what is here.

A dark side to what is not there.

Can you fix me?

Whiling the while…

cradling ‘of unknown origins’…above the street?

Rest assured I’ve cleaned hell.

It left me in a

‘poor me’ spell.

Days, months, years…

stuck in the glare.

Rummaging in the attic…

drunk and blind…

looking for a purpose, a meaning, maybe a sign.

Now, feral moon, as time becomes,

a whimper and a whim…

As life goes bump in the night…

as it often will.

The dark shadows, the bolted attic door, the childish folk lore’s…

beg the question, once more.

What is IT out there?

One step down from the top of the stair?

IT used to be the monsters sight unseen.

Sometimes, I know, as I do now,

IT is only in a dream.

Don’t Panic

To me…there is the possibility of

fear…

fear of what is known

fear of the unknown.

To me…there is the possibility of…

strange thoughts submerged in routine.

Always an angst devil looking over my shoulder…misinterpreting what I mean.

A heart so full it reaches into the throat.

Tranquility resides nearby…but never takes off her coat.

Panic, panic, say what?

Don’t panic, don’t panic…

the only words that I can breathe.

I look inward to a wild rose bush with thorns…

the beauty does not relieve.

I really, really, really, like you!

When I say it’s you I like, I’m talking about that part of you that knows that life is far more than anything you can ever see or hear or touch. That deep part of you that allows you to stand for those things without which humankind cannot survive. Love that conquers hate, peace that rises triumphant over war, and justice that proves more powerful than greed. ##Mr. Rogers

Bill’s Poem

His eyes…placid and dauntingly, deep.

His mold…a bit of chubby rounded with strange feet.

He looks to me as being…the one.

Both of us know…the one chance in hell…happened out on the street.

He and I just part of a peaceful retreat.

Bill knows with reserved, self preservation, as far a human goes…I am not inclined to mystique.

I will bow down again, again and again, to the keyboard that soothes my song.

I will crouch even lower to feel that I belong.

Belong to Bill’s world…full of thought and no regret.

And, cat friends I have not yet to meet.