Second Day Chili

Potent comfort steams off thick blue bowls of

Yesterday’s chili

Seems that which is mulled, mused

Holds  solace flavored seasoning

Like poems that sit overnight on laptops


Into profound silence of approaching chill

Edging mostly eastward

Swarms of  Canadian and Snow Geese

Gyre as one

Undoubtedly distinct voices

Now that hushed Lawn mowers and leaf blowers

Are a muted majority

Reserved for emerging spring.


Hands cupped around the blends of Second Day Chili

We eschew cable tv

We devour  nostalgia from

Name that Tune

Boggle, WordTwist, CatchPhrase

Cackling brashly over the shadows

as our old brains try to connect

Nuggets of  timeworn Golden Oldies.


But mostly it about us.

Finding ties in times of disparate reasoning

Fueled by spices

Of second Day Chili


ma’s place

This is Mother Nature’s home.
We tend to forget.
She has spun and danced in the winds.
Frozen and baked lands,
Flooded and dried rivers,
While humans were mere star dust.

Her hand sweeps the skies
Dips the ocean mist.
We are but tenants of
Her home.

She will decide the colours
The airstreams coils
And roiling squalls.

And if we are to call
This home.
We, too.
May drawn again,
pulled toward the stars.