He thought they’d had, for them,
A quite good day.
He took the garbage out
Before she asked, complimented
Her on the new hair style, and
Listened for some time after
Inquiring as to her day

He tried to make eye contact as
She was taking unusable things out
If the refrigerator and moving them
To the garbage can, smiling on
Occasion to show his sympathy with
The vicissitudes of that day’s battle

He commented on how selfless she
Always was, and how people took
Advantage, sometimes; as she finished
Drying her hands after washing them,
He lightly placed his hands on her shoulders

Whereupon she recoiled, turning at
Once to pass that off as a gesture of
Busy procedure on to the next task, while he
Realized with the first dim realization of
A new forever that
What used to be good enough for her

Wasn’t good enough any more

How desolate this spot is now…

How desolate this spot is now.
I walk around the emptiness –
What once was meant as life support
Lies dead among the quietness
And as the summer shadows move,
I hear the evening start its song;
The sun is headed home to rest,
And I should head home too,
Ere long

= = = = =

(I actually took this photo, which is a rarity. – Owen)

Snapshot – Dockside


The waves lap up against the dock
Now hear the rowboat strain and creak
As salt-burned nostrils feel the shock
Of air heavy with fishy reek

And as eyes squint, the shoulders burn
The sun beats down unheedingly
And casts its glare on everything
From sandy beach to glimm’ring sea

The crab-trap lines are tied and taut
The sun is high along its course
The Summer’s scorching, it’s on fire:
Like me
It burns

Snapshot: Coffee With A Friend

Snapshot In A Cafe

My friend, the lawyer, got a job
In Birmingham today –
And so, she’ll take her girls and go;
It’s time to move away

We’ll miss her at the company,
And I will miss my friend,
But life’s about adapting
And her time here’s at an end

I see the woman that I’ve known
Both nervous and excited;
But she is headed toward her dreams,
And we’re all just delighted

But in the cafe shadows,
Her hands nervous, her face set —
I see that she’s concerned
This is a day she will regret

But oh, my friend, you needn’t fear
That you yourself will censure:
For stepping out into the light
Is part of the

The Sunset Sings

The sunset sings its sorrowed song
Of shadows shared in shameful shacks;
How night will never know the name
Of travelers who leave not trail nor tracks –

The grass, it grows on ground and grave,
The weeds grow wild, where they will;
The sunset sings its sorrowed song,
And stuck, I stay here,