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I can feel your patriotism
from across the street.
There’s a sense of arrogance
in your flashy display
of love for your country.

What ignited your patriotism?
Did a parent plant the seed?
Did your education reinforce it?
Were you there,
paying for butter with food stamps
during World War II?
Did you fight in Vietnam
or crawl through the hills of North Korea
as one of our fighters against communism?

You fly the flag to show respect.
Still, you fly it at night without light.
You don’t take it down when it’s raining
to prevent discoloration or fading
You don’t fly the flag at half-mast
When the state or the nation orders it.

Please align your sincere desire
to express your love for the country
with a solid understanding of
The Flag Code of the United States of America.
flags, patriotism,
If you deeply adore someone
you’re devoted to following
her every twist and turn in life

Any attempt to squirm free
causes you to recoil instinctively

Her exotic scent
continues to lure you

Love is intense euphoria,
inlaid with moments
of sharp and profound agony

Your every contortion
only constricts her hold

Predictably, despite
numerous gyrations
you surrender to love
Love, commitment
You left your home,
Your flowering tree
That bore you in the springtime.

Once released,
You drifted to the lake below.

Now on the water,
You drift again with the current
To reveal your whiteness

Your buoyancy
Creates gentle ripples

This picturesque scene,
Attracts attention—you're beautiful.

Your petals catch the sunlight,
Bringing feelings of tranquility
Unlike any other.
flowers, water, peace
The morning sun reflects
Across the leaves of the red-tipped photinia,
Flowing forth to accent the brilliant
White of the oak leaf hydrangea.

Peacefulness rests solidly on the scene.
There is time for talk and a chance to listen.

Life is calm, except for the roughness at the edges.
Disagreements suddenly become prominent.

How does one disagree?
When do topics become as rough as sandpaper?
How hard does one scrape the soft edges of ideas?
If rubbed too deeply, do emotions sour, curdling like overnight cream left unrefrigerated?

Can we play with these ideas like juggling bottles in the air?
If they are dropped, are they erroneous, becoming shards swept to the garbage?

Righteousness and reason override relationships. We must think alike if we are to be maintained.

Midday has arrived; sunshine dominates. Hydrangeas and the red-tipped leaves now glow the shade of seafoam,
Shining as clearly as a meadow.

Have our ideas become more lucid, more detailed, more correct?
Were we willing to discard what was deemed baggage, too wrong to carry beyond today?  

What too has become of us together? Did our arguments massage so intently our intellects that the bruising might not heal?
Relationships, love, disagreements, arguments
She asked me
If I had ever been
In love

Then I
Realized that I
Had never not been
In love

I realized
I  wanted
Nothing  
Other than love

I think there is
Only one
Off-ramp
From the journey
Of love

That off-ramp
Is judgment

A critical heart
Combined with
A critical eye
Fills one with
The opposite
Of love—judgment

Judgment colors
The mind with
Negativity

Until the sin of
Judgment
Is displaced
By a lust
For love,
One will not find peace

When love invades
One’s heart
The body finds peace

When love is abundant
And bountiful
There is no fear
Of wasting love
Nor spilling love
For love can grow
Anywhere

So am I
In love?

Yes, I am
In love
Excessively
Wastefully and Willingly
love, questions, judgment
Garbled groans
Emanate from
A feeble opposition

Debilitated Democrats
Stunned and still

For want of the right word
For want of a plain proposal

Meekly making
Faint sounds of life

Begging belatedly
“Follow the rules”

Cheating continues
Constitution crumbles
Politics, cheating
That freshly planted bush
Dries in the afternoon sun
Filtering through an overgrown pear tree
Loaded with an unpicked harvest

Were he younger
He would climb the tree
Were he younger, he would
Enter the house and kiss
The woman
Who says she loves him

That freshly planted bush
Might not make it
Through the Fall
Wilting and dying before Winter

Were he younger
The plant would not die
Were he younger
What would the plant become

Written in 2018
The plant has survived
Love, hope, nature
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