Raise Her High

Hail Old Glory, raise her high
Never surrender, Never say die!

Raise her high out in the yard
When times are good, when times are hard

A symbol, yes, but so much more
She's the woven fabric of our nation's soul

She scaled the rubble after the towers fell
And Suribachi, over Iwo's hell

She says to the curse, you will not win
I stand for what we are within

This country will be your toughest yet
You might bruise us, but you can bet

That when it's over we'll still stand
At the ballpark, with our neighbors, heart under hand

Where we'll proudly salute her beneath the sun
One nation, indivisible, every color, every creed, everyone

Model 1814 U.S. Flag at Fort McHenry National Monument and Historic Shrine, Baltimore, MD

When Does It Stop Being Funny?

When
When does it stop being funny
When do the jokes and the memes
lose their edge and become cruel irony
When does toilet paper cease to be a punchline
and instead become an apropos symbol of this mess
What will be the death toll and when and where will it hit closest
When do the gallows no longer become humorous and open beneath our feet
When will "If I get corona, I get corona" become the hauntingly real battle cry of the ignorant
Maybe when the shelves of toilet paper and cleaner don't get re-stocked in a week or two
Maybe when the patient with the twisted knee waits at home for another week to be seen
Maybe when the realization hits that the last goodbye really was the last goodbye
Maybe when last month's rent really was the last month's rent
Maybe when schools announce that summer's cancelled
Maybe when neighbors aren't
Maybe then
Maybe

Spiritual Food

I went to write a poem of sorrow

One full of despair

But when I searched my heart for words

I found they just weren't there

For I'd just finished praying

And my soul was at its best

I searched for angst and worry

But I found my mind at rest

I tried to rile myself to passion

But alas it did no good

The 'damage' had been done

I'd had my spiritual food

A Week Ago

It was only a week ago
Hard to believe
Awake and alive
Now asleep in a dream

A week ago
That's all it was
Rainbows and sunshine
Dandelion fuzz

A week ago
All was right
Day was day
Night was night

A line was a line
A dot was a dot
Things were fine
Now they're not

A week ago
I held out my hand
Now it's wrapped in a glove
Sealed with a band

Up was up
Down was down
The lights were on
All over town

It's quiet now
Everyone's inside
A ghostly silence
Something's died

A week from now
We'll be fine
Strong of heart
Peace of mind

A week from now
We'll realize
How to adapt
How to survive

Life will be basic
Slowed down
Bread and family
Sitting down

Time for prayer
Contemplation
Time for reflection
Meditation

Time for projects
Pulling weeds
Mending fences
Humble deeds

Charity will be in vogue
Across our blessed nation
We'll see faces, not commodities
Service, not recreation

Ready and stronger
We'll survive
Better and balanced
Awake and alive

Lunch Break

I thought Id take account today
Of all the things that've come my way
Or that I can plainly see
From my bench
On the Mall
In old DC
There's geese a-swimming in a
Green ripply pond
Some folks look
But most move on
Achy feet or
Scooter bikes
Wheelchairs, or
Strollers for the little tikes
Languages
I hear a-plenty
A German tour with
More than 20
I've seen horse-mounted cops and
Black sedans
Souvenirs and hotdog stands
Along the asphalt trail with simple benches
Like the one lI've already mentioned
Portajohns wrapped up with tape
If you gotta go
You'll have to wait
So many people
Come to see
The head of this land made
For you, For me
If you make your way out here
I think, you too
Will be amazed
At what you see and hear

It's Midnight

By Joel Seppala

It's midnight. Cardboard boxes ornamented with van line logos climb the walls, the writing literally and figuratively there. Closing Time, Semisonic. The familiar yet mildly haunting echoes return. It's moving day. Relocation. One last call, Semisonic. Shadows reoccupy lost ground in this home become hostel. Memories are everywhere, but somehow they aren't anywhere. The radio intoxicates. Again, Alexa, play that one again. It's the life we live, the price we pay-looking forward, never back. Well, maybe, this time, just a peek.

#movingday

Just Me and the Trail and My New Nikon

Everyone was gone so I hit the trail
With my new Nikon, the one I got on sale
The wind was down and the sky was right
The way it normally is this time of night
I was hoping I would see some green
The kind of verdancy that comes in spring
I grabbed my plaid shoes and my walking hat
Or, something like that
When I found the path I started clicking
Woodland scenes that I was picking
The stream was bubbling
And there was mud
Trees with leaves, flowers with buds
Plaid hat and my walking shoes on
Just me and the trail and my new Nikon