Identity, they say, Determines quality. Even says Socrates, “Knowing thyself brings ease.”

I hear a kindly voice, “Imagery so lovely, Thou meter is sublime. May I linger near your rhyme?”

How shall I know myself? Only to listen to The one who etched me on Thin, paper filament.

My poet said she penned me With careful thought in mind. She tells me who I am, Her dearest love divine....

THURSDAY

Something strange happened today. I understood the trees. When each leaf gently fell among the rustling leaves, I leaned in closely and heard a whisper, “Let go.”

“Let go?” I replied.

“Let go.”

Then, another leaf landed and the soft whisper murmured, “Surrender to Winter.”

“To Winter?” I asked.

“Yes,” it answered. “Spring will come.”

“Spring?”

“Yes. Spring brings life.”

I slowly ...

Fran keeps a clean house; she’s germaphobic. What’s ironic is her job. She drives a garbage truck AND she is the one who throws the trash in the back of the truck. In fact, she’s so efficient; she drives the truck, hops out to get the trash and hops back in to drive to the next stop. Fit as a fiddle—that’s Fran! A one woman show....

So I keep them in my socks Hidden from all to see My secrets. I ripped my socks on sharp rocks Exposed to all who saw My nail-less toes, No longer My secrets....

Through the back car window she buried her head in her mother’s blouse. She closed her wet eyes, but I watched her fade through my dry ones....

oh, I’m so glad the blue sky slowly blew by like a long sigh instead of blowing chunks of bleu cheese on a stormy day....