Thursday, February 14, 2019

POEM WRITTEN TO MY HUSBAND ON A PAST VALENTINE'S DAY



PRIME TIME: A POEM FOR OLD VALENTINES
We're growing older, Darling,
And our clothes are shrink-fit tight;
Dame Gravity is tugging at our skins.
And she won't give up the fight,
Though we struggle with our might,
Til our bellies have slid down to our shins.
But despite the surface rust,
The sinews of our souls have
Grown stronger as we've pressed the weights of Time.
We've grown more aware of living,
And a lot more self-forgiving,
As the lean of youth has mellowed into prime.
Oh, who can miss the summer
In these blazing days of autumn,
When we reap the fruits we planted long ago;
When our spirits pick up rhythm,
And the home fires burn so brightly,
Bathing we who bask around it in the glow.
---Rose Moore to Bob, Valentine's Day 1992
'VALENTINE BOB'
GONE FROM THIS WORLD, THIS BOB OF MINE,
BUT HE'LL ALWAYS BE OUR VALENTINE


Wednesday, February 13, 2019

WAS IT A SUNSET? ...


I didn't expect a sunset when Tuesday came to an end; not with the rains and the clouds and the fog that had risen so thick from the creek that flows from the western horizon.

To my surprise, I did see an aura of mauve in the fog, and it was surprisingly beautiful. 


If it wasn't the actual sunset, it was more than enough to satisfy me

Tuesday, February 12, 2019


Wet winter! 
Worst kind there is! I'm wrinkled like a raisin.
Thought it was my age 'til I realized it was the WEATHER!
 🤪