Notes found on the refrigerator…June 5th. 2020
a note to my children:
You were all born with an Angel on your shoulder
Disguised as a small invisible white bird.
Look at you now! All grown up with a smile;
And without a frown, that ultimately always shines,
As bright as the moon clears the clouds.
Who knew how each of you would grow up;
with your mother and I. (in each smile and frown!)
As you were born
Sitting on your shoulder
we heard a white bird
Which our hearts still hear.
Notes found on the refrigerator…June 4th. 2020
I’ve been washing dishes since I was twelve years old. Sometimes wiping, sometimes scrubbing, and once in a while soaking. Which brings me to my current state of six spoons, four forks, and three knives. And an assorted accouterments that rattle and roll freely every time I open and close the drawer.
To make a long story short, at seventy-four, I use one spoon a day. Then on the seventh day I have to do the dishes. I rinse one out for the day’s coffee, having run out of spoons and noticing the mess it has created during the week before, I throw it back into the suds; and begin my day of service.
shit shines every night
along with the star light bright
“dew shine”, anyone ?
Notes found on the refrigerator…June 3rd. 2020
two mourning doves: (haibun)
relationships are being defined in the environment of the nest they live in.
–some in a tree with no leaves that once held dreams.— the true skeleton behind the feathers exposes its heart.
rattling off to a branch, bones tickling each other, they wait for another Love’s morning.
sunlight drying dew
summer’s warmth removes the sheet
pillow soft asleep
Notes found on the refrigerator…May 28th self-quarantined since Mars was discovered
May 28th. 2020
Be who you want to be with all its failures and success. Until you realize who you really are and that your destination is your journey.
Then… life begins in the wisdom of understanding, acceptance, and with Blessings.
Flowers bloom in spring
Winter reaps in solid ground
Memories are now
Notes found on the refrigerator…May 2020
There came a time when I remembered where I began. To understand, that I didn’t have to start over again; to allow wisdom to tick the clock where I actually have to begin.
Time will never see
Internal world clicks the clock
Wake up from a dream
(on a lighter note)…
i played my guitar tonight
to a full house of dirty laundry.
I hope their lack of “applause”
of my performance. 😊
Love: as ever has been
We have watched the sunrise
below the mountains and settle behind the sea.
We have ridin’ the wind,
Walked beach sands and bused to Boston.
We have taken pain
To the Joy of understanding.
We have taken each other
Further than any of us have ever gone;
By just being present.
True to ourselves. True to each other.
We have been
As we are; as ever has been.
~Rt. 132 North~ R.K. Garon
Notes found on the refrigerator…April 17,18, 2020
April 17, 2020
i have no place to be going to
and with no hurry to get there
it seems, i have been here before.
there is no place to go
other than where i was going.
i am caged within the parameters
of whom i am.
my walk is slow and secure—
as I find where i am going;
with wisdom, compassion, and the knowledge
of understanding of who i am.
17 days in Q [Haibun]
Friday afternoons are a strange time of the day for me. Sometime I skip the mornings and late-night dishes; then go out to the safest places I know. Usually to the local grocery store and buy things I’ve never bought before.
It doesn’t take long to go about short business before I’m back in my “cave”; 4 o’clock and I’m lost on what to do. I hear the cuckoo clock in my head, telling me to go do the dishes then make myself something to eat. Again. I’m coming 😊
Wheels turn when moved
Birds fly from perch of safety
Rain shelters us all
Notes found on the refrigerator…April 14, 2020
lost in an April afternoon [haibun]**
arms by her side, gently moving
with the rhythm of her stride,
she walked on the sidewalk
by lake Waukewan.
her gray hair, scattered by the lake’s breeze,
she waved to me with a smile and with an age-old hand
inviting me to enjoy this this day and who I am;
in April, lost in the afternoon.
Darkness and despair
“there’s a crack in everything” *
Grass above concrete