Vulnerabilities

To the old man, walking in three step stages,
I can tell it is painful,
But I also see the pride you have.
Independence in your steps.
Nothing hopeless in your face,
As you stop one more time.
You never do set the gallon of milk down,
Carefully cradling it, and then,
Switching hands, and taking three more steps.
Stopping again, looking around,
Rheumy eyes perhaps spotting the colors,
Color in abundance on the autumn trees.
And then, groceries are shifted,
Feet move, gnarled hands grip.
It continues, presumably until
You get home,
And can finally set your load down.

Memories

It is that closing time of year,
Leaves have been beaten off the trees,
By days of rain and gloom.
This type of weather begs,
For me to remember those gone before.
Melancholy thoughts of endings,
Refusing to see any new beginnings.
I think of my mother, gone a long time now,
If measured in years, not so long,
Twelve, I think.
It might as well be a million,
It seems as if it has always been this way.
And it isn't bad, nor good,
It just is.
I think of my father in law,
Surely he is in a better place.
It really has only been a few years,
Again, it might as well be forever,
And grandma, has it really been fourteen years?
Autumn always makes me think of them,
And I mark the time in our clumsy years,
Miss them, not with a sharp pain,
But in a gentle, autumnal, melancholy way.

Laying Low

Cloudy days hover over me,
Dampness soaks the air,
Slowing me down.
Thoughts slide in my head,
Nothing swift or worthwhile.
The outdoors matching inside,
Happy a distant thing.
Sort it out,
Work around the house,
Just to feel ok about something.

Charcoal

I can imagine, tonight
Driving by the burnt down playground,
In the night, rain falling,
The smell of a fire,
Doused by water.
The unique feeling, the taste
As the ash hits the back of my throat.
It is like when I saw the picture,
Flames gouting out, childhood in flames,
That time I could imagine,
The taste of the wood smoke,
Hitting the back of my throat,
Gritty and black, fluming out.
When I saw it, in the gentle light of dusk,
The remains of towers reaching for the sky,
Charred fence, yellow tape.
How sad it was, melted childhood,
Burned to the ground.

Before

Before I fell off the edge of the world,
I was happy and healthy,
Life happened, I rolled with it,
Accepting what came,
Not questioning what I saw.
Simpler times,
Easy to just go with it,
Finding joy in all the simple stuff,
Day to day joys,
Sunshine and butterflies,
And then I tripped somehow,
Skidded off the tracks,
Hit the lows, and nothing made sense,
Life was pummeling me,
Belly shots, head shots,
It was all the same.
And then, one day, it was like before,
I was happy and healthy,
Accepting what came,
Finding joy in all the simple stuff.
Maybe even more joyous,
It could all go away,
Then it would be like before,
When I skidded off the tracks.

Dust

Hanging in the air,
A dirty fog,
Blown in on the wind,
Every street light has a halo.
Surreal the way it came in.
Dust making false clouds,
Obscuring stars,
Dust storm.