The wind romped across the hill on a crisp fall day
and rustling, slipped across the nearby bay
to make full the withered sails of masted boats
and tug on the pedestrians’ close-clutched coats
Potatoes soaked, grated, and mashed.
Potatoes whipped, roasted, and hashed.
Potatoes fried to the delight of all.
Potatoes, I love you, nature’s great windfall!
Let your heart alight with mirth
here upon your long missed hearth.
With a crackling fire and a mug of ale,
the children sit and await your tale.
one fish in a tank at home;
still feels like we are fighting
the good fight of living solo
wishing I could journey away
back to those childish days
when ice cream was a simple solution
and a grandfatherly pat grants absolution
smiling at a patch of dark
amid the ring of city lights
feeble stars still have power
dark night is a pleasure
when knowing its measure
in the surety of sunrise
dangers — not as surmised