Tag Archives: love

Tomorrow

I was watching the
wind’s last playful
tug on the

disappearing day
wondering about
what tomorrow

might bring when
the phone rang. It
was the sound of

desperation looking
for work. My words
of “don’t lose hope”

seemed so empty
after the call. Maybe
not to him but to me.

All I could do was
pray about tomorrow.
Hope for tomorrow.

Last Leaf

I raked until I
couldn’t rake
anymore.

Most of the
debris was in
a curbside pile.

A nice wind cut
through the
humidity to

refresh me but
I was done and
couldn’t take

another sip of
water. Even in
this high heat

my eyeballs
were floating.
Have you ever

heard or seen a
pine cone fall?
Didn’t think so!

There is always
another pine
cone and there

is no such thing
as the last leaf.

Laura Revisited II

Hurricane Laura hit us about one in
the morning. The noise and the heat
awakened me. The power was out.

It sounded like there were two big
powerful locomotives moving at top
speed. One flying past the front of

the house and one in the backyard.
The two large elms and giant oak
in the front cast elastic shadows.

I sort of slept from three to six or
so. A cold water clean up. No shave.
No electric but the stove is gas. I used

a lighter and boiled water for coffee.
I went to the top cupboard and took
down my old Bodum French press.

It was fine for the two of us. We moved
into the TV room where I opened two
windows and the side door to get some

air. Hot air is better than no air. A light
breeze crisscrossed the room. The rain
stopped. By dusk the wind started to

die down. We talked back and forth all
afternoon. I cooked as the light faded
from the windows. We ate by lantern.

Back in the TV room, she shrieked.
Her fan came on. Power was back on.
God is good. The gift of another day.

Laura Revisited

Laura. Bracing for storms coming our
way. The first one sort of fizzled out;
second one did not. Waiting for Laura.

I’ve been singing that schmaltzy ballad
from the 1944 movie of the same name
since last night. Whatever happened to

my mother’s copy of Vanity Fair, I’ll
never know. I remember the picture of
Gene Tierney in it and Gary Cooper in

1934. It was a favorite book of mine as
a kid. Laura was a favorite, too. Still is.
One of the few good memories. But

this poem can only end or begin with
one word. Laura. “Laura is the face in
the misty light…”