Baby Lily, age 5 days

Baby Lily, age 5 days

flower baby nested

flower baby nested


They kept secret how to call our granddaughter ‘til nine oh five pm last Friday born, We took turns snuggling her in our arms the following bright morn,
Counted ten fingers and ten toes
Opined she inherited Adam’s nose
Possibly Bernadette’s dark hair
Ah, she’s our baby beauty rare
And oh yeah
We finally learned her name would be

Valleys, hillsides, shires—Callas, Tigers, Easters, Stargazers sprout growing tall
Sprung from ground glowing, brief surviving, they whither and then fall.
Nothing like our infant girl divine,
Who’ll be hugged for many years with love and shine.
Mom’s milk given her with care
Afterwards she sleeps unaware
And oh yeah
When she’s able, she’ll also learn her name is

Arrived at twenty two inches, seven pounds four ounce
Will someday walk, run, skip, and bounce
Wonders of her life to come and adventures a must–
She’ll cope with folks– the unfair and the just
But for now, she knows not lions, tigers, and bears
Oh my!Only sweet baby dreams she dares
And oh yeah
Never forget
Her name will forever be


Pyramids Muse

Mayans and Aztecs built many pyramids in what’s now Mexico.
Jungles shrouded them for centuries; slaves constructed long ago.
Cholula, Chitzen Itza, Palenque, and Tikal,
Copan, Tulum, Coba, and Uxmal…
Strange names for kings’ tombs or worship of failed-gods
Didn’t help natives survive disease, famine, nor Spaniards…
Maybe that’s why no empire creates pyramids in our times
Now churches, mosques, and temples await march of relentless vines.


Our former guest has nine lives
I think it true.
She retired to Florida
Like septuagenarians do.
She’d weakly meow
Each time she got sick and sad.
Then mew twice as loud
Whenever hungry or mad.

For many years, we cared for Keekees–
‘Cause our daughter went to college.
Only yelled at her once or twice…
She’d jumped on the table and ate our porridge.
Most times she’d lie under a tree
Watching robins in flight,
Dreaming of youthful days
She’d snare ‘em when they’d light.

Keekees had a temper for sure
But mellowed as she aged.
Yet no matter her extended years
She hated to be caged.
We didn’t mind her all that much,
Easy she was to care.
Until she’d get in a fight
And return without her hair.

Our child married in April and
With her husband lives in Miami.
On their apartment’s landing,
Keekees’ one eye scouts tsunamis.
We’ll visit them in winter months–
From North Carolina, a thirteen hour drive.
An old roommate will be waiting–
Half-blind, half-furred, but forever alive.

3 thoughts on “Poems

  1. A Son’s leaves me awaiting the next episode. It’s an easy read for a southerner, and in a subtle way the story addresses the mentally challenged population through the son’s character. The author gets two thumbs up for capturing the manner in which law enforcement interacts with what could be termed southern misfits.


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