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Glenn Currier Sep 2022
The storm came through with fierce winds
a large limb fell off our tree
as I inspected the damage
my neighbor joined me in his bare feet.
We chatted about the dove
perched high in the tree
about the variety of trees in our yard
and other musings
in a long peaceful conversation
as we sat on our neighbor’s retaining wall.

As I write I think about how conversations like this
on cool fall days and in the midst of summer
act as retaining walls
for the social landscape of our town
strengthening the links that bind.
Such a sweet moment.
Glenn Currier Sep 2022
We come from different regions.
He is from a land stretching from a mystic desert
through rivered green hills
atop eon-deposited bands of coal
ending on the shores of a mighty ocean.

I from swamps and warm southern coastal climes
from a father who saw with urban eastern eyes
both parents merging into deep flowing rivers
full of lifegiving nutrients and radiant spirits
but I too ending on that same mighty sea.

We steer our separate vessels
our hands firmly on our singular tills
but each with the same cosmic navigator
merging our journeys into a brilliant universe
full of multi-colored nebulas and planets,
but our star sheds upon we two pilgrims
a potent lively light.
Glenn Currier Aug 2022
And then she said no.
I said I knew
you’d decline my offer
but I had to try anyway.

Sometimes no is the best answer.
In response to guy scutellaro’s poem, “people like feel good poems. this is not one of them” It was not explicitly a poetry challenge but I made it into one. This is my modest if shallow reply to is cool poem.
Glenn Currier Aug 2022
I thought she was on her way out
at an age cats usually die.
But still she jumps up on our laps
sleeps there knowing she’s loved,
still finicky, she eats
and when hungry she speaks.
The honeybees and hummingbirds
are out enjoying our sage blossoms.
Life all around defying expectations
of fall’s slow drying on the way to winter's dying.
Glenn Currier Aug 2022
I hear the soil’s thirst-quenching
in the low rumble of rain on our roof
see it in darkened skies
feel it on cooled skin
bodies refreshed
muscles mellowed
grateful to the Lord of the skies
for easing our drought.
Glenn Currier Aug 2022
When I start to regret the past
I have to ask
what does that piece of me mean
is it something best forgot
or a lesson
that turns my dark to green
It might make my dust into stars.

I should not waste my scars.
I thank Archer (https://hellopoetry.com/McBleak/) for the idea for this poem with his poem, “Waiting Game (https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4598204/waiting-game/v)
Glenn Currier Aug 2022
Trying to read deep poem
TV, fan, drum music
Attention too shallow
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