A Stake in Fun

This is from a diary note from June 7, 2014, while we were in Wichita, Kansas. I never published it because a lot of things were going on back then.  I think I was waiting for a plane to California to see my Dad, who had been diagnosed with liver cancer, but has since been in un-looked for remission!


Boisterous country music,

rivers of voices bouncing off the walls,

around, back, forth, deafening,

murmuring, laughs, words,

conversations, peanut shells

cracking, dropping on the floor,

pans and dishes clanging, silver

ware clinking, cooking clatters,

strong scents of peanuts, hot

breads, grilled steaks, all

at the Texas Steakhouse in Wichita, Kansas


Enough of a Good Thing

O, wet days

piled on top of one another

dreary, gloomy, trudging

through slippery wet streets

watching the drippy eaves

gray, colorless earth and sky

cold, windy air

mist drizzling lacy, reflective

wetness over everything until

this morning when

I noticed the full moon shining

on one side of the sky and

the dawn radiating a thin red line

from the other side of the sky

O, dry days

Actually, I only felt overcast for one moment yesterday. I’ve been enjoying the moisture, but the past week of wetness has made up for the weeks and weeks of dryness back in Kansas. I think I’m no longer dry, so I’m glad that heaven’s perspiration is stopping now, because I would have needed a sunlamp.


High Plains Laser Light Show

Concentrated lightning creates energetic, gnarly, skeletal claws underneath both the stars and the bright, sickle moon; and generates bright varieties of barbed, puncturing exclamation marks, taking their time to bore into the ground ahead in the nearby southeast, while we drive home from Dodge City.

Continuous, heavy-duty flashes silhouette distant rain, passing trees, farmhouses, electric poles, and a line of thick, storm clouds—all appearing like on an old movie film, one frame at a time—a natural laser light show, just begging for dramatic war music to play with, since, oddly, it does not produce any booming thunder of its own.

After an hour, we arrive home safely, and the weather station talks about hail up to a quarter-coin in size pummeling the earth under those clouds.

We looked at each other, suddenly feeling fortunate—fortunate to watch a formidable display of power and might without having to experience the damage; a gift not often handed out to people.


The Big Five


In the after-breakfast morning sprinkles

five hefty hawks perch on the high wires

behind my house under the dark clouds

the sound of vehicles on the nearby highway

a quiet rabbit under the trees to my right

a loud angry bird in the tree above

squawks at the spouse to get rid of the hawks

sitting spaced apart like ominous sentinels

soundlessly staring preening calm

and three smaller birds flap over to perch near one hawk

trying to strike up the courage to chase it away

but the hawk is a whole lot bigger

and there are five