Ninety-five:

You’d be today, if

Eighty was not when you died.

Remembering you

this day, on your natal day.

Love, from your darling daughter.

xoxo

Skat@2022

Can It Be Spring?

Birdsong throngs the air;

Chipmunk has arisen—plump

From his warm storehouse—

All willing to forget such

a cold and nasty winter.

Skat@2022

The White Stuff

You’re a soft blanket

On a sunny day, but when

The wind’s behind you,

You’re viciously cold—you’re a

Nasty old slap in the face!

Skat@2021

Thought Bubbles

Washing up, I’d a
sudden remembrance: water
filling up a tub
for playtime at Nursery–
some fifty-odd years ago.

skat@2019

Sounding … Off

Gelid suet balls
cemented in dispenser
need to be shattered—
by pounding on the railing—
into edible pieces

skat©2019