Life’s Choices

City life can be invigorating. Sometimes I crave the natural of the sea.  The juxtaposition of these two got me to thinking about the two sides of myself and voila, this “person” resulted. I do think that sometimes, there’s a “reclusive idyllic” in all of us…..as in today’s Daily Post Word Challenge.

 Life’s Choices

Reclusive by nature
she lived everyone else’s dream
a New York-Wall Street-Starbucks life.

She woke ten years ago, exhausted
ignored the ticking clock
sipped coffee slowly and decided.

One greatly, not gently used car
stuffed suitcase, and road map later
she searched the road for seaside serenity.

Dune shack dweller these many years
she fancied herself a Crustacean
sliding through life sidewise.

Exo skeleton deliberately developed
avoids tourists, sudden noises
eye contact and sand castles.

Off-season, she feasts on quiet
vast stretches of sand, sea and sky
shell discarded, she feeds her soul.

Summer’s Delights

NaPoWriMo  April 29  and  Photo Challenge to share a photograph that captures motion and tell the story behind it.  Several summers ago we were delighted to have our daughter and grandchildren join us for a weekend in Provincetown. Oh the joys and innocence of childhood!

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Summer’s Delights

Apple tree blossoms in curly hair
knocked off their branches
during the morning climb
by scraped and knobby knees.

Sidewalks with white chalk not snow
crooked squares and wiggly numbers
smudged by hop scotch jumps
and dripping lime popsicles.

Seaside escapades scented by Coppertone
childhood tag at water’s edge
joy forever captured in portraits
of red-brown freckles on sun flushed cheeks.

Come Walk This Lane

NaPoWriMo Day 28:  no prompt

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Come Walk This Lane

We travel the road with smiles and song
two seniors, a little girl, and giggles galore.

Slowed by aging knees and cataracts
our steps hesitate on uneven ground.

Her six year prance, skips and tugs
a young colt straining against its reins.

Hands seasoned with brown age spots
grasp fingers fresh from popsicle licking.

The wheels on the bus go round and round
segways to Knock knock. Who’s there?

Elephants! Suddenly we’re swaying
makeshift trunks and holding tails.

Beware! Silliness is contagiously infectious
in close proximity to grandchildren.

Woods’ Desire

NaPoWriMo  April 24, without prompt. Spending February in Bermuda, we walked many miles on the Old Railway Trail.  So many sections were almost mystical – nature can be that way. 

 

Wood’s Desire

The forest seldom traveled
seeks company and joy
trees stand sentinel proud
light rarely allowed upon her ground.

Winds decide to grant her wish
push aside branches high and low
create slivered space amongst the leaves
open pathways for morning sun.

Leaf filtered, bright and spritely shapes
suddenly dance upon her darkened floor
awakened shadows without selves
companions until the calm.

Ode to Puttering

NaPoWriMo  day 23 without a prompt. With a shout-out to Lisa Dingle’s Just Ponderin’ blog for mentioning the word “putter” which got me to thinking, then reminiscing. Words do that, right?

Ode to Puttering

Dawn to dusk wage earner kind of guy
one business suit, five starched shirts
Monday-Tuesday
Wednesday-Thursday-Friday
cubicle confined.

Suit shed
like a snake-wriggled-from-skin
sloppy slippers, baggy pants
uniform is no form
Saturday Sunday putter time.

Basement workshop sets him free
Skippy jars stuffed and ready
screws and bolts, drill bits, nails
epoxy glue and old television tubes
scraped sandpaper sits by stained soft rags.

Puttering
that practical art
relax to see to do
replace a blade, splice a cord
refinish renail a peglegged chair.

Dad the doer, mom the asker
knick knack shelves, built-in whatevers.
Puttering, like Jack Benny and Lawrence Welk
a lost art from today’s rush and run, buy and toss
and buy again kind of world.

Choose the Light

NaPoWriMo  Day 20:  without a prompt.  Who needs a smile today? This poem should be in my About. 

I choose life in lightness
sun or clouds, day or night
seek the circle’s upturned half
peripheral vision, occasionally required.

We wake up watchful ready
sweetly taste our morning smiles
tickled baby beams a toothless grin
dimples born in happiness and glee.

Grandkids’ knock-knock jokes
silly faces feign gargantuan guffaws
I choose to step lightly through life’s travails
aging knees, fingers stiff, imagination in Neverland.