a tanka — As the chrysalis seems quite cagey to the worm, blind to its future– So I say to my own gods, “This isn’t what I wanted…”

a tanka — Anger turns to ice, fear to determination- no one’s left behind- when we take each other’s hands we can stand against evil.

free verse for hope — Is this Winter? This weighing down of hearts Of souls almost lifeless Awaiting what they fear to come? Is this cold running through us The cold of wet snow Breaking branches Turning to mud under our feet? Is this the howling wind? Is this the ice That grasps us Until we cannot breathe…

free verse for contentment — these are the days of music of light from every corner when even our neighbor who scowls changes his porch light for red it glows on the snow deepening on his sidewalk where tiny dogs pass by in sweaters against the cold our old deaf dog curled tightly in his bed rouses…

too bad I didn’t join earlier, eh? — I learned about Medium several months ago and really enjoyed participating…for a little while. Unfortunately for me and, evidently, many other short-form writers, the way Medium evaluates and assigns earnings changed dramatically. Now, my work most often goes unseen and apparently worthless. Soon, it will cost me more to be…

a haiku — frosted tree branches moonlight illuminated on this Solstice night

for my Graces at Christmastime — One of the visible spirits of Grace in my life, You offer me always more love than I’ve ever deserved; With critical eye and kind heart you regard what I do And judge it all with generosity, always unswerved. When I go walking the thin ice of hard public scrutiny, Your hand’s there to steady…

careful now…guard your heart — When fear and weakness, fear’s true face, combine To harden hearts and undermine our sense Of unity, thus seeking just to find A way to lock ourselves inside the fence Of our own selfishness, our own conceit That tells us we are not that which we fear, That our beliefs are permanent, complete, Must never change, adapt…

Truth that rhymes — “Truth fails not,” a man once said (Though honors soon went to his head). As men grow older, truth grows hard, Replaced by money and regard Till, petrified with work long past, Each falls to mumbling at the last, While still believing that his voice Is clear and strong. What is his choice…