Is there still time
for everything?
Will it all happen
while I’m still here?

So much of each day
I spend moving things
to and fro.
I wish stillness meant more.

I’ve thought about
all the things
I still have left to do
and I can’t wait for each of them.

And I want the stillness too.

This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Stillness.

In the sun I lounge
and wait for breezes
that bring everything
I need to know.

I sound the alert
with mighty shouts
at anything
that peaks my interest.

Then grateful ones
echo the call
until we stop
and return to watchful slumber.

The summer warmth,
the soft green grasses,
the yard is mine,
a dog’s life well lived.

This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, A Dog’s Life.

Today, like all days
will unfold, slowly,
revealing the present
as we move through the world.

Our past pains
will come with us,
if we choose to bring them,
and all we carry informs our next move.

The future cannot
be known to us
but can be sensed,
like the sweet smell of coming rain
or the cold chill of coming danger.

All attempts
to reason with the future
will only yield anxiety
and disconnect from your senses.

So feel,
and know your feelings.
Set down what no longer guides you well
and step forward, boldly, into the unknowable future.

This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Intuition.

As an image
of the man mom left
and not part
of the family dad kept,
it was slowly
that insecurity crept.

My successes
were somehow muted,
feelings of pride
always diluted,
I was free
but rarely supported.

And now we try
for quality time
busy schedules
both theirs and mine.
Most real meaning
still between the lines.

This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Insecurity.