Peace Comes Dropping Slowly

Dense canopy turned October thin, the crape myrtle proves shade enough for late afternoon. The old wrought iron still bounces. Breeze helps, too.  The other afternoon guests—catbird, brown thrasher, female cardinal, small mystery pair—seem okay with my company.  The squirrel, though, slinks above my head as though she fears I have designs on the nut in her jaws. When all I want is to be still and look around for signs.

Rainbow Ponderings

Between the blue and the violet,

Isaac Newton saw indigo.

Cool and deep.

Some centuries later,

Isaac Asimov said, 

“It has never seemed to me 

that indigo is worth the dignity 

of being considered a separate color. 

To my eyes it seems merely deep blue.”

Both Isaacs did good work but it seems to me

That Newton led the more enchanted life.

This I can say, based on personal experience:

My windowsill was not complete

Until I placed an indigo flower and a sphere of clear bubbles

Between the blue and the violet.

Now my heart sings.

After the Storm:All in a Day’s Grandmothering

The time has come, I did cheerfully say,

to put away the Pack & Play.

Here I am, relaxed and breezy —

Disassembly should be easy!

But rails stayed rigid and nothing was gained

And all my confidence quickly drained

And all the logic I could muster

Proved no match for this knuckle-buster.

Oh you contraption, contrarily lurking,

jammed in a corner, perversely smirking —

The baby’s gone home but here you still are

Obstinately on your half of the floor —

YouTube expounded, but could not explain —

Then Myst’ry relented and gave up the game!

It calmly folded, accepting its place,

And zippered itself into its case.