Category: Observations

A Quiet Morning

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Exiled to the backyard,
While inside the termite inspector inspects,
Kohnan limps to the door,
Pleads with liquid brown eyes.
He doesn’t bark; has no energy for that these days.

“He’s friendly.” 
The inspector nods. Kohnan sidles in quietly.
He’s drawn blood.
He can be protective, even with friends.
Not now. Mornings he wakes up slowly in a fog of old age.

He’s at my feet, 
Moving his head to the sound of steps in the attic.
The sun falls in patterns, 
Warms my legs, his arthritic hips.
Warmth is welcome to us both, we’re grateful spring is coming fast.

The News Went Straight to Her Waist

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Elsie was in such a rut. Doomscrolling was her go-to activity. Things changed with an e-mail. She’d won a weekend at a luxury spa. She woke in a fancy hotel, took a yoga class, and had donuts for breakfast with her personal trainer. 

The girl finished her yogurt. “Any trouble spots?”

Her tummy, always her tummy. The mound that amplified her waist had expanded recently. “I want a flatter stomach.” 

”You’re a stress eater.”

“How could you tell?”

The trainer said, “Your T-shirt.”

It said, “Hands off my junk food, you fascist.”

“We’ll start with your social media. Then, pilates.”

The End of Empire

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Haven’t you heard? The elder statesman is packing. 
Emperor Discord is prancing to Palatine Hill in a red toga. 
He’s promised bread and circuses. 
He’s planning a retro-empire Roman regime.

After the wall comes the coliseum. 
No need to go in person. See pictures on X. 
Read the retweets. Watch Fox trust, they will not verify. 
Comedians, prepare to roast.

The joke’s on us. All the bread is meant for the one percent. 
Even now, they’re pulling up the stakes on the circus tent. 
You’ll find the performers leaving at midnight on the gravy train. 
Ticket  price: unwavering, groveling loyalty.

‘Tis the Season

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Along a woodsy trail in the deepest forest you’ll find a steady light if you look hard. Wish on it. If your heart is pure and you know the meaning of the season, your wish will come true. But then you won’t be believing me, will you?

No influencer am I. Not one you’ll find on Tik Tok or Instagram. Not one to hype the latest thing. But I tell you, take that walk, find a log, sit a while. A small brown bird will land on a branch. A doe might feed, a squirrel might chatter. Anything can happen. 

Who’s Going to Pick Your Vegetables When They Deport All the Immigrants? I Don’t See Any Proud Boys Lining Up.

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Immigrants are the lifeblood of America. They bring hope, energy, and optimism. Different languages and cultures enrich this country. We’re better together.

It’s a story that’s been told before. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “We all came in on different ships, but we’re all in the same boat now.” I heard it in a Malvina Reynolds song.

Most people don’t remember that song. The sentiment has drowned in a sea of anti-immigrant vitriol that’s threatening our most precious import.  And here you thought it was silicon chips or fast fashion. Don’t be fooled. We need a path, not a wall.

Polite Turkeys

Photo by Monica McHenney

These turkeys were not plump. Their tail feathers didn’t fan behind them like traditional Thanksgiving birds in a children’s art project. I didn’t detect a red wattle around their necks. The ladies flock, soft spoken and prim. They make me question the news stories about grumpy, aggressive turkeys.

A mob of turkeys, a gang of turkeys, some turkeys might be felons, but not all of them. They’re not all alike anymore than people are all alike. It’s our diversity that saves us. I’d like to think so anyway. Still, we have a tendency to flock together, we birds of a feather.

A Parasol, a Stroll, and an Unfortunate Act of Nature

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On my way from Musée Marmottan Monet to Palais de la Découverte, I chanced on a rare display of public temper between two girls.
One held a lacy parasol, the other grabbed it. The parasol moved to-and-fro like the flag on a rope in a tug of war. I couldn’t understand their French, but the pinches sur l’arrière said it all. Oh là là, they went at it.

A gust of wind broke the umbrella. They shouted in unison, “Oh là là, oh là là,” and laughed. It puzzled me, the change of mood, but I guessed they were sisters.

An Amicable Settlement

Photo by Peter Kessler

When I took the dogs out, there was a vulture on the power line across the street. A crow landed next to it. Two others sat above like sports fans on bleachers waiting for the game to start.

The vulture seemed young, inexperienced. It looked at the crow, shook its wings, and a feather dropped on the ground. The crow preened, cawed. The fight was off. 

The dogs pulled at their leashes. Nothing more to see here. It was getting hot. We moseyed around the block, talked with a few neighbors. When we got back, even the feather was gone.

Things to Do While Waiting

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Take a walk.
Soak up sun for the vitamin D; looking to cure my SADD. 
What an acronym. 
This winter has been bad. Must be old age. 
Try not to get old.
Make a vet appointment for the dog, grooming appointment, too. 
I’ve done the crossword, not had breakfast. I’m reading the newspaper.
An inspiring story about a man in So Cal who’s taught Afghan women to drive. More Afghan women drive in So Cal now than in Afghanistan. 
Not surprising, but still inspiring. 
Small, good deeds keep us young.
I wish the dog would poop. I have things to do.

Tiny Hands

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The others dinosaurs laughed behind his back but not to his jaw dominated face. It was the jaw they avoided when T-Rex came after them. His hands were small, arms too short to reach, but he had a knack for swinging his head in a death arc while his mouth spewed rot. Avoid the rot, avoid the hands, run like hell. It’s a Hobbesian world.

It doesn’t help to run. Nor will a strongman, a dinosaur like T-Rex, solve the problem. Given the chance, dear Hobbes, a dictator will make life “nasty, brutish, and short,” for the rest of us.