Sonnet #6: Week of February 26, 2017

I watched the movie “Moonlight” yesterday.
That small and silent boy is in my head
In scenes that will continue to replay
Just beneath my consciousness. I dread
The memory of addicts and their pain:
Their “sorrys” that accomplish nothing more
Than putting on their victims all the strain
To be forgiving, and forget. What for?
It cannot be undone—abuse, neglect,
Betrayal by the cold and focused need
For any sort of substance—I suspect
Leaves a lasting gut-punch, and we bleed
For generations. Wish I could unsee
What is exposed in Moonlight, perfectly.

Sonnet #5: Week of February 19, 2017

Ordinarily in Maryland
A February Tuesday would be cold.
A scarf around my neck, a mittened hand
Would clasp the collar of my coat. I’m told
Tomorrow will be sixty-eight degrees.
I greet this fact with trepidation, so
I’ll dress for Spring, anticipate the breeze–
But likely will wake up to ice and snow.
Oh Maryland, my Maryland! I’m peeved!
The simple task of picking what to wear
Is complicated. Short or longer sleeved?
Wool or cotton? Boots? Let’s say a prayer
That this is an anomaly—not forming
A year-long season known as “global warming.”

Sonnet #4: Week of February 12, 2017

The Valentine balloon you bought for me
Slipped off its dime-store curling-ribbon tether
And floated, drifted unexpectedly
This morning over Baltimore. The weather
Offered up a sky completely grey.
I stood still in the parking lot to view
The bright metallic heart-shape soar away.
But in my own strong, shiny heart I knew
The moment was a perfect symbol of
The color that you brought into my life:
The vibrant and the brilliant, happy love
That made us second husband, second wife.
The metaphor both makes me laugh and cry;
Whatever time we have on earth will fly.

Sonnet #3: Week of February 5, 2017

I’m not a fan of football games, per se;
I tune into the Superbowl for ads.
The touchdown dances make me look away;
A jeering, prancing dude in shoulder pads
Will make me cringe, embarrassed. Where’s the sport
In shoving triumph down another’s throat?
(And on the football field, or track, or court
Did not your mother warn you, never gloat?)
We almost turned the game off—fifty one
Was not a contest. Not at first. It seemed
One team was trounced; the outcome done and done—
But then the sportsmanship of which we’ve dreamed
Was on display. The comeback from behind
Was brave and bold; the pure Olympic kind.

Sonnet #2: Week of January 29, 2017

The minivan is not a sexy car.
Its boxy shape—no matter what the make—
Will scream “suburban carpool.” If you are
A lover of design, there’s more heartbreak
In roof racks that are tailor-made to take
The family clamshell on a trip that’s sure
To prove to be a mile-by-mile mistake
Set to the Chevy-Chase “Vacation” score.
But if you’ve lived a couple decades more
Than thirty, you’ll take comfort over style
In every feature, from each sliding door
To easy fold-down seats. And every mile
Will be a sweet dream fashioned in Japan.
Come ride in my Sienna minivan.

Sonnet #1: Week of January 22, 2017

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“Mary Poppins” introduced me to
The suffragettes when I was five years old.
But they were cast a bit like crazies who
Neglected their own children. It foretold
The issues women faced. We face them still.
Since 1913, our collective voice
Has risen to a pitch that some call shrill
In their attempts to quell the quest for choice.
But step by step, our footfalls will resound
With purpose, all across this fractured nation:
Freedoms, once attained, must not rebound
With one election or administration.
I won’t succumb to hate or bitter fears;
Hope’s the cadence marching in my ears.