Red, plump, juicy, sweet, a bit prickly
a wee green flower sits atop
I tiptoe carefully through
tiny earth paths between rows of bright red

I pick strawberries
when school is finished
and the hot sun reaches its peak
trees are heavy with leaves
some branches almost reach the ground

My basket is always full
well, not quite
eat one, throw one in the bucket
I smear my lips and tongue bright red
a mess on my freckled dace
I lick my lips, afraid to lose a morsel

My grandma bakes strawberry pies
I stuff my mouth
globs of whipped cream

okay, ready for more!

Your spontaneous obsessions
of which I fall short to acknowledge
will assuredly provoke nightmares
upon my last meager reposes

My age creeps
like a ghost, silent, sinful
eyes with bird wing creases
oozes out of its corners
deep crevasses from nose to chin
ruts in between the eyebrows
wrinkle cream slops on
day after day
night masks, stiff,sticky, peel-off
contemplate the mirror
ouch!
more remedies

Serious reflection
I scrutinize faces of women my age
compare to my own
but who ages gracefully?
someone buries poison in my genes

I mull over my close family photos
smack from both sides
my fate screams
father has worry wrinkles on his forehead
mother has a double chin
grandmother has floppy underarms

I persist to my Hungarian ancestry
beauty experts agree these young women are stunning
I explore older family photos
still I detect the same
creases, wrinkles, ruts, blotches
I weigh my options
surgery? fillers? Botox?
scary notions

I think I'll dream of those pretty young Hungarian women
let nature decide my fate

12:25AM, dark, still
at once gentle rumble of the freight train
passes through my village each eve
three horn blasts startle me
as my eyes droop, book in hand
my clue to sip some brandy
view the antique ticking clock
turn the loose switch on my favorite lamp
smooth my silk coverlet
puff my down pillow
ease my drowsy head
muse about my sailor boy
in a distant place
until slumber shrouds me
in perfect bliss

The flag-draped wooden box slides down
a cold steel ramp
the drizzle slightly dampens its vision
It is a dark, bleak early morning
my eyes blur, hours of bawling, heaving
dried tears on my face and black suit
my little ones hold tight
looks of fear emanating from their eyes
bewildered

Soldiers soaking wet, stand like statues
never move, no emotion
carry out their duty
the flag gently folds in perfect form
plants in my shaky hands as a gift
though I pause to receive
whispers of thank you
I stand motionless, rigid, timorous
I am vacuous, no one stirs me
thoughts ramble through my mind
why did he go?
Why him?
I am a widow

We blink in sync
five seconds, he's astray
the Red Head Finch greets me in the morn
in a distinct and inviting play

We cement our friendship
he lands on his perch at dawn
wings flutter, our cryptic wave
he chirps to arouse, as I stretch and yawn

Dark world virus, kills those who gasp for air
solitary confinement smacks us all
distressed, we open the window and sob

we wail for those whose spirits have left us
we clap for those who care for our sick cores
and laugh for all of us who stay healthy