A Short Poem for Friday (click to expand)

Dale WoodsMarch 1, 2019

Out of Gas

If I am wandering,

Deambulando

As the Spaniards say,

Then I must lock the door

Take my key

And walk.

But if I have

A destination

Then I am content.

I can hold the gas cap

In my hand

And wait.

Posted In Writing

One Comment

Jean Peterson says:

March 14, 2019 at 7:56 pm

As I sit here at my computer toniight, reading your interesting musings of your life, I am almost nudged by two dark stained book shelves that have moved with us from Nebraska to Texas over a period of years, maybe 43 years! They hold my books, his books, their books, and a bit of decorating minutia. It seemss they have always been with us. standing strong, sturdy, and yes, heavy! Thanks, Dale, for your craftsmanship thoes many years ago! I still remember the day you installed them in the basement of our home as a surprise Christmas gift for my daughter’s father! Thanks again — and keep writing!

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A quote from Grommet Hunter:

There is something joyful and satisfying about ramming and ramming the square tip of a three-foot crowbar under the edge of something that needs to go away, and shoving on the crowbar, separating the old thing from the wall, grabbing with your gloved hand at the gap you’ve just created and dropping the crowbar, damn the clanging noise it makes when it hits the floor. Then both gloved hands are on it and the thing you’re tearing out is shrieking and groaning but you have no pity and it hits the floor with a crash of defeat and what you have before you is a blank slate of a wall that could stand some patching. And you will patch it of course you will. But something new will go there. Something that matches your creative vision. That’s why I was there. The shattered cabinets made a wretched pile in the back yard. Like something a tornado might have dropped there.