Every so often, I come up with something that is a little lighter. This was triggered by a true incident, but the details are fiction. It lends credence to the idea that having the winning ticket doesn't always make life easier.

Can't Get the TV to Oklahoma

Won a drawing in Kansas City,
but I live far away
Thought my daughter
would help me get my prize,
but that'll be the day
Bought the ticket for a raffle
so my grandson could play ball
Now if I want my TV,
I'll have to rent a U-Haul.
The family thinks
it won by default,
but I'll have the final say.
I'll just move in with them
and never go away.

When I started working on this poem, I intended to write about several elements of autumn. As often happens, the piece took its own direction.

Autumn Revelation

Reds and golds and oranges
hang against a blue background,
are caught up in a chill wind
and eventually cover the ground.
Their absence reveals the framework
that is the constant in this cycle
and opens up views
that their fullness obscures.
The way we see our world each day
is altered by the loss.

There are geese near the building in which I work. I get to see some interesting behavior and sometimes wait for them to cross the street.

The March of the Geese

Geese cross the street
in a long line
taking whatever time
is needed for the group
to get to the other side.
Cars sit on the street
in long lines
halted by the birds,
who continue at their own pace
oblivious to the anger and frustration
that simmers around them.
Perhaps, we should take a lesson
from the geese.

This poem came from playing with a word. I thought of several definitions of the word turnover and how different they are. I tried putting them together and got the following.

Fluctuations

Sweet as fruit-filled pastry
Comfortable as rolling over in bed
Disappointing as a fumble on the goal line
Uncertain as lay-offs at the office
Devastating as complete upheaval
Which turnovers will touch you today?

This deals with the idea that grief can ambush us at anytime. It doesn't matter if the loss is recent or happened many years ago. When you least expect it, something will trigger the grieving process.

Pop-Up Grief

Notes reach the ears

and freeze the soul.

Dates bring despair

by their mere arrival.

Pictures draw tears

before they come into focus.

Grief pops up

like an annoying ad

on the internet

and insinuates itself

into the intended action.

No click of a mouse

will close down this pop-up.

I have a friend who is a great advocate for girls and women in sport. I have heard her speak to women about seeing themselves as athletes even if they didn't play sports. I guess you could say she promotes "getting in touch with your inner athlete" or drawing on the postivie qualities that we believe athletics promote. This poem came from that idea.

I'm an Athlete

Being an athlete is not tied to play.
It's more about how you approach each day.
Teamwork helps you get along
and provides support when things go wrong.
Resilience means you can come back
anytime life gets off track.
Determination is the strength to try
and trying yields lessons that can help you fly.
Confidence teaches you to see
the best you that you can be.
So, whenever you hear "Are you ready for this? I have to ask."
Just say "I'm an athlete; I'm up to the task."

I do find that the news can be a source of inspiration. Sometimes a comment or word combination I hear will lead to a poem that is independent of the original story. Sometimes the tone of the discussion will lead to commentary. Less frequently, I end up writing about a specific event. I wrote the following last year upon the death of Senator Ted Kennedy, who had come to be referred to as the "Lion of the Senate".

The Lion's Share

The youngest wasn't groomed to lead.
He was last in line; there would be no need.
Order was turned upside down by tragedy.
He became family patriarch in his thirties.
He guided those who were left behind.
He built the legacy; he had the time.
Now, he can rest with the others,
no more fights to be won.
The lion's share of the work is done.