Vitamin D

This dragging winter of dread and despair
Lingers later and longer, bitter bite in the air
Where is spring’s welcoming warm embrace?
Filling warm golden rays ‘cross this gray, dreary space

Vitamin D loss is taking its toll
Bones brittle, sight sad, heart hurt, mood droll
Supplements, shots, salmon, sprays can’t compare,
To the comforting rays of sun-swayed spring air

I dream for days basking in soothing sun
Yet, I’m stuck inside, mood coming undone
This lack of light has squashed my soul low,
Vitamin D, how I miss your golden glow

Days long, skies gray, wind wet, nights cold
My mind’s feeling murky, my spirit so old
Let’s schedule weeks worth of warmer days to come,
When gray clouds will part, revealing the sun.

I used to…

I used to
kindness and concern
for the greater good
was the common
American emblem

I used to
knowledge and wisdom
from stable sources
was enough to make
sound decisions

I used to
safety and success
were shared standards
we worked on

I used to



We are on bikes when clouds roll low into our street
Cloaking our final minutes of autumn light
Hints of charcoal-charred meat blow in the breeze
Reminding us
We are late for dinner
We don’t care

Eyes and noses search for the smoke’s source
We pedal as fast as feet allow until
Parents, police officers, and firefighters scold us
Forbidden to go any farther
Closer to the blazing behemoth across the street.
Fierce red-yellow flames whip through windows,
Seizing the wide warehouse’s five floors.

Carson hears crying chickens
Squawking over crashing glass and sirens
Praying for relief from rushing water
But the chickens are already dead
Packaged for mass consumption

Friends abandon regular television programming
And gather before the bonfire building
Flames reducing it to fragile frames.
Conversation are cautious and concerned
Until Mr. Barlow asks:
Who’s bringing the marshmallows?

Let’s toast the stricken chickens
Reduced to ash that autumn night
Never fulfilling their ultimate mission
Yet giving their all
To the most bodacious barbecue
Our neighborhood has ever hosted

If you like this poem, The Christmas I Regret is also a personal memoir you might appreciate.