And yes often
A pot unstirred
Boils over ignored
And left unattended
That’s when you
Realize that it’s
Your fault to
Have started something
Before you were
Ready to give
It your attention
Now a mess
To clean up
Rather than enjoy
Category: Morning
Home
As you move
Farther away from
The thing that
You called home
The smaller it
Becomes until you
Arrive some place
Else and it
Gains your importance
Home is never
Where you were
It is always
Where you are
ColdSunshine
Did you bring
The storm or
Did it bring
You something changed
Last night downpours
And fury darkness
Flashing clouds then
Just wet silence
Today remnants scrape
Past my sky
Moving on just
Like my heart
Leaving me with
Just cold sunshine
Thumbprint
We all make
A mark somewhere
In this life
Sometimes as broad
As shoveling
A path through
Snow drifts or
The placement of
Bread atop refrigerators
That change how
We see things
Or find things
Yet some are
As subtle as
A thumbprint on
Those you love
HappyThanksgiving
My best memory
Of Thanksgiving Day
Was so long
Ago and so
Simple that I’m
Surprised I remember
My mother sent
Me to the
Store to buy
Milk swaddled in
Heavy coat and
Cap I crossed
The playground and
Heard laughter and
Saw families gathering
Like swarms of
Bumblebees hugging golden
Sunflowers and then
As if by
Magic heaven itself
Shed its manna
And the lightest
Of snow began
To fall and
This is what
Thanksgiving means to
Me Happy Thanksgiving
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 