She bought this light green chair at an estate sale, with a red pillow as an accoutrement she smiled like a young child; proud of her find, all I could do was smile back, afraid to hurt her feelings, you hate it she said, I can tell-would it make you want it more if I told you it was from Ernest Hemingway's estate, such a find- I  was in a bidding war with another woman, I purchased it for you

its been a couple years hence, sitting in my light green chair, she knew it was the perfect chair, to do my writing, she would smile, if she could see me here, shades of the writer that I am

time to move on, all the memories left- I sold everything; never though, would I sell the light green chair with the red pillow, as it reminds me of her always


By Michael Perry

Strange weather for December in the States
Up and down
Those who suffered or lost in Kentucky and elsewhere
Heartfelt wishes and prayers as well as help from a charity or two as they become available
Ida hurt many and that includes those I love
Help others if you can and that includes our furry
friends
Bought a monument instead of spoiling her with gifts
Flashbacks of a Christmas time long have come and gone
It does not get better with time it just is reminder
So no matter if you celebrate Chanukah, Kwanza, or Christmas
If you can't wait for Boxing day
The wishes are the same Peace, Great Health, Understanding
and hope you are surrounded by love and joy
If you are missing somebody as this poetess is
Remember them fondly and cry in the shower
Let's not spoil it because we have all lost so much
Another Christmas

C@rainbowchaser2021

Champagne slacks, barn brown plaid patterned down
a watch that tells the time, the temperature (sunny and 75), and the number of suitors on read. The blouse is smart, the woman is mousey.
She tells and re-tells her employees the secret to success is listening. Between emails to accounts payable, she stares into middle distance, she pretends to stare into middle distance, she pretends to flashback, she flashes back for her team, her team watches her through the glass windows of her office, they're always watching. The floor plan is open. We should all be more open, she often says during interdepartmental collaboration meetings. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights she opens herself like a letter, while the blue glow from her phone lights her face, a concession, a weakness, but is it a weakness if it's scheduled? If it's ritual? And love is a powerful thing (if it's withheld). And empathy will take you far (if it's weaponized). And life is beautiful (from the corner office).

My heart in middle age found the Way.
And I came to dwell at the foot of this mountain.
When the spirit moves, I wander alone
Amid beauty that is all for me....
I will walk till the water checks my path,
Then sit and watch the rising clouds --
And some day meet an old wood-cutter
And talk and laugh and never return.

In the slant of the sun on the country-side,
Cattle and sheep trail home along the lane;
And a rugged old man in a thatch door
Leans on a staff and thinks of his son, the herdboy.
There are whirring pheasants, full wheat-ears,
Silk-worms asleep, pared mulberry-leaves.
And the farmers, returning with hoes on their shoulders,
Hail one another familiarly.
...No wonder I long for the simple life
And am sighing the old song, Oh, to go Back Again.

My wife and I
we talk about all
the good times we've had
and about what good times
tomorrow will bring
When we see others
not understanding
what a gift life is
we hang our heads and cry

the sky is on fire
at sunset

(and you want to know
why i'm sitting
on the roof

the sky is on fire

and I only dream of you

and in Tibet
the monks write their prayers
on rice paper
and climb to a high mountain top
and fling their prayers
into the wind
where they will float
to heaven
and be answered

the clouds:
violet,
pale yellows,
and pink

and you want to know
what i'm doing
sitting up on the roof

so standing
I take the toilet paper
from my shirt pocket

and the wind knows
and skyward it goes)

the sky is on fire at sunset

and my quiet heart beats only for you