Every year
the same deal
treats
obtained too early
under the
seasonally seductive
store lights  
nestled  next
to  the fake fall foliage
become mysteriously
rerouted  
from their final destination
as intense inspections
conducted
under the guise of
quality control
these  pilfered  provisions
perform a vanishing act
visions of  sad
costumed tots
at the  doorway
with empty bags
hurry a return visit
for rapid  replacements
tragedy narrowly
averted
once
   again

Your voice
has gone
still in my head
leaving me
to wonder
where you went
and who
gave you
permission
to slip away
so silently .

still opened to
June
your presence bookmarked
by well worn memories
that dwell in every corner
every space
on the wall
jam packed
with life treasures
my mind can't erase
your spot in this place
and struggles to accept
what actually is fact
remnants of you
are all
that exist

dreams
suddenly contained
your  presence
the other night
you hadn't really been there
for years
our time is over
I had to say
to your sad face
it’s not that I don’t
miss us
my life is so different
it just went
another way

this immaculate
vanilla  cake
whipped up   high  
with expectations
eggs and fresh milk
begged  for fruit
my pie eyes
spotted
only  a dented seam
sour cherry can
in a  crammed
pantry
or
freezer burned
blueberries
not even the dog
would deign
to nibble
still
it's safe to say
that even this
naked baked cake
will find it's way
into my
greedy grasp

I thought
with a jolt
not a single caper
to be found
the utter shame
of my sauce
lacking   zip
the lid comes off
with disdainful
faces
gathered round  
a  hot   ***  
of culinary
blame

packets of pleasure
all wrapped and pretty
whisper sweet
everything
worried moments
swept away
with savory promises
a hollow stomach  
or aching heart
fills just a little
beguiling morsels
cocktail conversation
at the bottom of
this  tray or another
lies sweet salvation
if only for tonight
tomorrow
the party’s over
all  goes back
to pumpkins, mice
and gruel  .

swirly twirls
roll rough shod
over
dead yards
half naked trees
shake what mamma nature
gave them
orphaned leaves
cling desperately
to
  lifeline branches
frustrated
by   frenzied spasms
stripped down  to  the last
vibrant vestiges
of  Autumn's
woefully weakened
grasp
as winter's stealthy
approach
is  announced

A Hound’s Garden  
The Citrus Saga

Part One: Cursed

The blossoms were sweetly fragrant
belying their sour harvest
the tree named Meyer bore a dulcet legacy
doomed
to wither  in a corner
under the sly vigilance of a young hound.


Part Two: Salvation

It arrived in a plain brown box
glossy leaves without flowers
a solitary green satsuma
flailing in the breeze
transformed under the sleepy gaze
of a furry connoisseur
whose daily test sniff promised
a favorite delicacy’s imminent
arrival.

Part Three: Thankful Harvest

Peeled glory
boasted
  succulent slices
of tangerine heaven
just barely enough for one mouth
to savor.

Part Four:  Grim Reaper

Growing season came again
fragrant   blossoms erupted
sweet branches
  studded with   unripe fruit  
stood proudly in the Texas sunlight
when like a thief in the night
every unborn tangerine
was gone one early morn
sad faces saw the end
of a Satsuma riddled era.

Part 5: Fare Thee Well

Years have passed
Since the hound’s youthful
indiscretions
her sight long gone  
nose not as sharp
the tangerine tree
belongs
to someone else
those fruitful bounties
live only in the dreams
of a graying dog.

unfolds  on my face
every night
zig zagging
through
dusky skies
a summer's bounty of fireflies
flight pattern
known only to you
my camera cannot catch
your electric dance
turning  that  copse  
between the yards
by chance
from the neighbors
****** decor  
into  rustic country  charm  
all along
their  laundry lines
drying  pants

All Hallows Eve  
is history
the saloon girl and her cowboy
a crumpled heap  
on bedroom chairs
pictures all shared
ghouls , ghosts
zombies ,zoo life
tiny  princesses  
alien  invasion  
through  the fake  fog
and chainsaw screeches
candy from strangers
never tasted
so sweet

my spatula
conducts  an
imaginary orchestra
carols
dance through
my hands
suddenly
Christmas past  
floods
my eyes  
like a sharp jab
with
a   roast fork
memories
rip apart  
these
hastily mended  seams
I stand there
in tears
after my
triumphant
orchestral
debut.

down the hill
over the train tracks
through the  abandoned
farmer's market
parking lot
past  last fall's  crispy
refugees
follow the stark tree lines
right up to
those normally plain
windows
glimmering   golden
   like stained glass
with sunrise
painting every pane
on  God's house
  on the hill