Stained glass tear drops fall

Echoing a loving presence here

For all to endure, press on.

One passed onto another life

Seems so small pop is gone

But remains in minds and

Hearts of family and friends

Cooled out semi freeze blows

Trickling bullets of triumph,

Tribute and torrents of rain

Separate for the grand man

Father son and soldier in

Crushed bathing suits of blood

Honor guard leads stars and

Stripes, colors fly. Horses

Ride nearby come join the

Army, boys such sad intentions

Never wished it wouldn’t end

Never glimpsed the magic

Behind his handshake and

Choreography make us laugh

Dad come on strike with me

A jolly old tune follow in

Step on my command ready?

Sink and drive and glide

On by my facial whistle try

Mine haven’t tossed their backs

In time to go the distance

For my Kiwani fine day to

Celebrate a man’s coming and

Going we all appreciate your

Love and care we salute you

Sergeant major on top of

The front runners collide

Attack bring em back in

One piece please no thank

You for my pride I give

Myself until I die oh

So easy to lose touch

Not contain my cheers

Hoorays and woes steering

Through the days and

Nights come again thrifty

Young Boy Scout badge on

Training for life saving

Merit badge cling tools

Red roses songs and so

Much memories frail and

Tough inside good byes never

Enough man and wife

Son and daughter raise

The right hand and watch

As he stands among us

Strong and free: Kenneth

Harvey Kuhns my grand-dad.

Leaving You

Leaving you here.

Stop. I am here.

Close your eyes.

Come. Be with me.

Enveloped in the soft petals

Of a dwindling iris.

Tossing and turning

All night in my bed.

Realms unleashed.

Following you down,

Down the cold, dark steps,

Into the dungeon.

It is here,

Where madness thrives.

A small token

I leave with you—

Crumbs of bread

Falling into a withered hand.

Motions of Negativity

Lost in memories of yesterday.

Cringing from the pull

Of fantasy—not reality, no.

Something else begs me,

Oh, so tricky.

What can it be

That lies underneath

A gentle breeze—

So lovely,

In the afternoon—

Moves slowly,

Almost a cartoon personality.

Dreams cascade through

My view, though shattered be.

Collecting my thoughts, only

To see myself fall from pride.

Nature strikes me

With electricity.

My name moves.

My heart screams

In agony.

One more try,

One more day—


Laughing through the Tears

He was a funny guy.

He tried to understand,

And, if not, then

At least accept

Most people.

Some rubbed him the wrong way,

But if you needed him,

He was there for you.

And he could laugh it off,

If you were a bit odd.

Back in the day,

When we were housemates,

Then roommates,

He would chuckle at me,

Because I was book smart,

But I liked to dance at parties.

He usually passed

On the dancing,

But every now and then,

He could rock out.

He could be serious

When it came to prayer,

And knowing the Lord.

I know he prayed for me.

I’ll miss him.

My Friend, Covid-19

Reach out—flex.

Cringe back—gasp!

Brush up against—

Sorry! My mistake!

What the (bleep) are you doing?

Watch yourself! Be careful!

Did you wash your hands?

Every hour?

You don’t realize how much you touch.

Oh, but only if…

We could meet again,

Hang out. Have coffee together.

Can I read you a story?

No, you might cough on me!

Let’s start over.

We can’t.

What’s done is done.

Where is your mask?

You’ve got to…

Only, perhaps,

It is too late.


The Essential

Waking from a dream,

I find, I am in a nightmare.

The status quo is social distancing,

I cannot shake your hand,

Much less,

Give you a hug.

The world has been

Turned upside down

By an odd appetite,

And now we all must curb

A variety of yearnings,

Like sitting down in a restaurant,

Going to the movie theater,

Visiting at a friend’s house,

Shopping at the mall.

What has become of the world?

It seems just yesterday,

That I could go anywhere,

At any time.

Now I must check myself,

And ask if it is essential.

What is essential,

After all?

The Usual

I’m sitting in a waiting room of an office building. I spend a good chunk of my life in waiting rooms, and in office buildings. So far, two people have asked if they could help me, and I’ve told them both that I have an appointment at 9:30. It’s 9:00 now. I hear men outside the door loading trucks. Not sure what they’re loading. There’s sounds of banging of metal. I hear a woman’s voice, and a man’s voice, inside the office. I hear men talking and laughing outside. I hear a television, perhaps an informational or instructional video.

There’s a sign on the front glass door, and another copy of the sign on the sign-in table, warning those with colds to stay away, so that staff are not exposed. The corona virus is in the news all the time, day and night with updates on new cases and quarantines. People are terrified of getting sick. I’m not sick, so I stay seated and wait for my appointment. I do use the hand sanitizer. You never know.

Days seem to fly by, but I agonize with moments where I have to wait—wait on doctors, wait on traffic lights, wait to pick up my wife from work, wait on dinner to cook, wait on bible study to start, wait on bedtime to give our pets their snacks. We have eight pets: a yellow lab, my wife’s guide dog; a brown chihuahua; a small, but chubby, orange cat; a fuzzy, but thin, orange cat; a black and white tuxedo cat; two grey cockatiels, and a green parakeet.

Our pets take up a lot of our time, attention, and energy. They keep us in a routine, and they keep us from moving around too much, as they like to lay in our laps. When one or both of our laps are occupied, we say, I need to do such and such, but so and so is in my lap. This excuse sometimes keeps us from getting up to get a snack, or it just might keep us from doing a chore, or doing a favor. The pets are the owners, we’re just staff, as they say.