Dedicated to my sister, Teri, who died on her 80^th birthday last January – R.I.P.

THIS LITTLE BAG OF SINS

Keeps me from heaven

You see, it will not cross the sill

My feet are sore from walking

My fingers clenched with Will

I’ve left it by the roadside

      Several times, many miles

But it found its way through mirrors

      Devious with wiles

This bag of small wrongdoings

      Heavier than lead

Weary years of travel

      For what?!? These all are dead.

I sat a while longer

      Just watching heaven’s lights

A wretch in rags & sandals

      A refugee of night

A passing angel called me

      I wakened with a start

“I’ve something here to give you.”

      Then he handed me my heart

That movement took a lifetime

      As he stood, he took my hand

I turned to find Forgiveness

      In a pyramid of sand.

~~1/25/22   carol borsello

DINOSAURS WERE A RUSSIAN PLOT

Nah, they just jumped off an asteroid, see?

Or maybe Nibiru

Tough old hides rolling down valleys

Clearing off nature

After glaciers allowed eggs

Bigger was better, they surmised

That they ruled was no surprise

The mystery of their demise

A patchworked web of compromise

Enough for me that they are gone!

Where once they rolled, I make my home.

POEMS ARE SO MUCH FUN!

They climb out one by one

Looking around before coming aboveground

Their bodies well-rounded

Identities impounded

Compounded, surrounded

They shake themselves off

And put on their hats

They walk through the Earth

But yo, I never worry

The kids are all fine

It’s Mom who’s more usually out of her mind.

EACH DAY DECANTED

Of fine spirits

Distilled by masters

Trod upon by maidens with purpled feet

A day rides the border of night

To that same eastern horizon

Then swarms uphill

Touching everything

With fingers trusting life

TOO YOUNG

For a gun

He used his words instead

We prayed

He slayed

His road still made of lead.