Raven Society

I want to be
a member of
the raven society,
perch up high
make pithy commentary.
Wish I could
swoop around,
play in garbage
and gurgle.
Besides,
who doesn't look good
in black?

A.H.

Baby Bits of Gratitude

Don't need
big, honkin gratitude,
baby bits
will suffice,
little sparkles
of thanks
strewn
thru the day,
lighting the way.

A.H.

Ten Good Things About Alaska's Dark, Cold Winters

1) Don't have to get up early to catch sunrise. (Sunrise today is 9:15 a.m.)
2) Less housecleaning is needed. Dust isn't as visible.
3) More time to read.
4) I don't feel like I should be out there doing something exciting and adventurous.
5) I can make a warm, snug nest in my bed.
6) It ends.
7) Is it over yet?
8, 9 and 10) It's hard to write when I'm in my bed nest and I'm not coming out until it's over. Can someone please send word?

A.H.

Doing a Roger

My brother-in-law Roger Watson died on November 1st at age 64 from early-onset dementia (Lewy body.) Before his illness slowed him, Roger was a very active man. He hiked and biked thousands of miles, most often in the splendid foothills of northern Colorado. His wife, my sister Danita, often joined him.
Please join me in honoring Roger's memory by "doing a Roger." This is my new term for taking a walk, a hike, a bike ride - getting out there (or inside) and moving.
When I visited Roger and Danita I enjoyed Roger's "reports from the field." These were descriptions of what he had seen, ranging from coyotes and rattlesnakes (yikes!) to numerous bird species. Particularly memorable was a sighting of mountain bluebirds caught in a late snow -broken pieces of sky.

Move, notice, report back.
Rest in peace Roger. Thank you for wonderful memories.
Special thoughts and love for Danita who now must walk on without her partner.

A.H.

Sit

Sit with it
whatever it
is for you.
Squirm if you must
but don't run away.
Watch the shadows
loom large,
welcome them.
Soon they will shrink
while you
simply sit.

A.H.

Early Morning - Poem and Haiku

Who threw
those stars
against the sky,
and what
makes them
stick?
****

A scatter of stars
thrown against the velvet sky
accidental art.

A.H.

Quirkville

I want
to live
in Quirkville
where the speed limit
is twelve miles per hour,
not eleven.
Quirkvillians
have time
to prattle
and ponder
but pass on
pontificating,
living their motto:
be kind,
be quirky.

A.H.