I was listening to the radio An interview with mayors Of small Alberta cities With no worries and no cares   “We’ve pipelines in our pastures And pipelines  through our towns Enbridge  is our Santa Why’d Kitimat turn them down?”   “Those BC folks are newbies About what pipelines bring Jobs and warmth and comfort And almost everything.”   One thing was…

Three plastic deer situated Isolated, alienated Above the grassy slope Along the treeline I remember the day The real deer came Walking, gawking, stalking, Does were wary;  bucks tarrying New kids in the ‘hood… But after awhile Noticing their stability, Fragility, immobility They were left alone And then it snowed.   One day not so long ago We noticed plastic ears Above…

In our family time is measured by deaths as well as births. Not just family or people we know But musicians and actors Well loved because we enjoyed their talents. My mother sighed when Bing Crosby died. And I wept At Johnny Horton’s death My daughter cried when Elvis died And my son cried when John Lennon…

There’s a long rough road ‘tween hope and change When you are all alone. But with a roomful of folks from various walks And a positive correlation of talks Similar passions and interests arise To rearrange, change and prioritize. Hope for the future begins to unfurl A group of like-minded can change the world!

Snow level recedes When you see  last Autumn’s weeds Get some garden seeds

April Poem #9 [Dedicated to Bee, my first-born child] On the ninth day of April ‘Twas when she came to be Adored by her father A miracle for me The forceps delivery Was a painful blur But what a wonderful moment When I finally got to see her! She played with her duckies Above her…

Women queued up to vote Gather in great numbers despite Threats from Taliban Yes, they can! Draped in hooded burkas, black, Blue and muted colors Courageous, collective stand Yes, they can! Like large birds, getting ready to fly Voting in their own land Women of Afghanistan Yes, you can!!

A lady I knew was naughty Her mouth could be described as “potty” She used all the words ‘Bout intercourse ‘n turds Thinking it  made her a hottie!

A Facebook friend was eight years old In nineteen sixty-seven We lived next door with my three kids And friendship was a given   Our families fished the nearby creek I don’t think that was legal But land-locked salmon tasted good And finances were meager   One day we heard some frantic screams From woods along the creek Two little girls, one…

Facebook friends are getting younger ‘Cause it’s their childhood I remember That skinny kid on our school-bus Was teased but never made a fuss A square peg in a rounded hole Taunting could have bruised his soul But he grew up and l heard tell He’d married and they’d managed well   His profile pic shows wear and tear…