A Flag For Christmas 2001

United We Stand

A snowman
A child’s hand
With a carrot nose
A green top hat
Red, white, and blue
For you and me

Pointed toes
Crowned in cotton ball green
Dancing to dangled bells

Candy cane socks
Seem to swirl

Little children wave American flags
We wish you a Merry Christmas

A tree is dressed in red, white, and blue.

Trigger Fingers

I should have insured my poetic hands,
with Lloyd’s of London.
Too late now.
Can’t open my hands.
Unable to straighten my fingers,
knuckles curved turned in,
coiled up into my palm, like a clam.

Can’t open my hand,
stretch my fingers,
hold a pen, a book, a piece of paper,
as my fingers are bent,
twisted like a wrung towel.

Can’t open my hand.
Pulling my fingers to straighten them out,
knuckles popped,
motion difficult, much pain.

Can’t open my hand.
Each finger is stiff as a stone.
How can I write a poem as my fingers are clam closed?
Can’t coordinate my hand to my brain.
Fingers focused on fighting extreme pain.

Can’t open my hand.
Impossible to write a poem.

Life Is Just One Exercise

My hand doctor said,
exercise three times a day:
after breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
This will restore your Trigger Fingers.

The cardiologist said,
walk every day for
at least forty-five minutes to an hour.
This will strengthen your heart.

The hip doctor said,
exercise at least twice a day
follow the physical therapist’s regimen:
SLR: straight leg raised,
Side-lying Clamshell.
This will restore your hip.

The pulmonologist said,
continue your deep breathing exercise
at least seven times a day.
This will strengthen your lungs.

The psychiatrist said,
just rest, relax and meditate
to seek inner calm
at least five times a day.

A River Is A Poem

We hear your echoing melody
Echoes wash against the shore
carrying much weight
of time, distance, space.
Stratifications mark your passing,
rush, ebb, and flow,
like a heart beating in the moonlight tied flows.

Until infinity,
you throb and cradle mysteries.

A river is a poem.