Who's to say?

 Who’s to say?

In a cut glass jar 

high on a shelf, 

this poem acts as a 

powdered panacea

you mix with holy water 

on special occasions.

It might be the water, 

the occasion, the amount 

mixed, the ritual, the weight 

of your heart mind, the cumulative 

effect, the level of your measure,

a remarkable phase of moon, but

(and it could simply be a placebo)

it seems to do the trick.

Who’s to say?

…

© DLWhite

10/29/23

11:59 pm

All of me nearly

 ________________

All of me nearly

We meet for a little while on a bench at yacht club just north of the South Shore Park Pavilion between the the boat launch ramp and yacht club. The gulls are squawking away. It’s surprisingly comfortable. 

Or …. you pick a favored spot and give me three guesses.

Otherwise, we sit facing the same direction, east to Michigan, watching the clouds. It’s quiet. You know I have something to say. I appreciate your time. Thank you.

And, now with this breath, I hope with all my hoping, that you are not uncomfortable with me thinking of you, and sharing my thoughts, my ruminations, my rumpled paper poetry.

I feel it’s my best gift.

All of me nearly

…

for Katie

(c) DLWhite

October 11, 2023

2:49 am

Freshwater You

 Freshwater You

I cherish the time I rang you 

when I had to drop a client at 

Freshwater or Florida and maybe 

mumbled something about a hug. 

Maybe. Maybe. Sounds like me.

You came out in a knit top that, 

so unlike you, had a little hole in it 

or was, maybe I don’t remember, 

could it have been inside out?

It only occurs to me now, years later, 

at the writing of this poem, that you, 

working from home, had maybe not 

been dressed for the weather, rushed 

out to meet me grinning also anyways,

to trade a quick hug and three minutes 

of “Hey.” And “Hey you.” and how do you do?

I hope this rings a bell with you,

or tunes up a crystal bowl singing

Freshwater, Freshwater, Freshwater you

…

for Katie

(c) DLWhite

10/11/23

2:00 am

Up in smirk. As if. Digital.