Sanna's Bag

“I never seem to have what I need when I need it. I’m going to make a belt-bag that’s bigger on the inside than on the outside, and just carry everything with me.”

Friday, November 03, 2017



November is a time of little endings.
when we are spending our strength today
to make tomorrow secure.
But life is uncertain, and we can’t be sure
of anything.
Leaves wither and drop, revealing clouds of gray.
The barbecue is put away.
 Days shorten, and the cold descends,
and our snowbird friends 
fly south.  I know
This hemisphere will tilt  again toward the sun, 
and women, slim and young
will dance in the summer moonlight.
How I loved that summer moonlight!
But my dancing days are done.

The Little Guy

The committee in my head
hears a lot from him lately:
the little guy, hiding behind his chair
screaming, “We’re all gonna die!”
He’s right of course. 
No one gets out of this alive.
But right now, just this breathing moment
I AM alive.
Why should I spend a good day
listening to his fear?
When I could sew or write or bake
or sing and dance 
(in the feeble lumbering stumble I have come to.)
Breath goes out, breath goes in. 
Heart goes thumpa, thumpa.
My favorite toy, my mind, is wearing thin in places.
names have unraveled,
and memories tangled.
But I still know a few jokes,
and the world still holds love and beauty.
We’re all gonna die, 

but not today, sucker.  Not today!

Thursday, November 02, 2017

All the words

The words
all snarl in tangles,
scrambled angles,
curves of words that trail away
without rhyme or reason
or even a pleasing
turn of phrase.
Like fry, they flash and flee
through the still clear water of my mind.
The words used to be my pets.
They came purring to my hand
and curled
content and perfect on the page.
The words were a fountain, now gone dry.
They have become a shadow of an echo
of the voice that lies.
There is sunshine and blue sky
and my heart lifts
but the words won't come to play with it.
I could force some doggerel to jog along,
but even if clever, it wouldn't sing true.
I am afraid of what the words might want to say.