Dedicated to my sister, Teri, who died on her 80th 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.
Riding the Light 
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