All those thoughts you store away

They’re too raw for you to share

So you roll them up like socks

In a drawer of underwear

All those thoughts you store away

Feed your dreams so long and deep

Through the nights of darkest need

And the days of light and speed

Keep your anger

Hide your fear

Stuff your worry

In a box

All impulses flattened down

They’re too big for you to show

So you stow them all away

In footlockers of despair

At the ends of all your beds

All the silent sounds are pressed

Locked in the twisting turning

Centers of your energy and light

May the universe release you

May you live the life that’s free

May you worry not about

What everyone might see

Smile your grin without a worry

Love your skin that you are in

Let it out to let it in

Breathe it out to breathe it in

By Diane E. Dockum

©April 18,2017

The cat walks under my bare feet

That dangle from the recliner

And the soft fur brushes past

On the way to somewhere

I shun the loud volume of the

Television and my ears seek silence

My soul yearns for wide open peace

My attention shifts around the room

Settling on nothing

And drifting to nowhere

I’ve used myself up today

And there is nothing left

I crave sleep and dreaming

By Diane E. Dockum

©April 17, 2017

In the quiet of the afternoon

The rain in a steady thrum

Cleans the air

That little bird songs fill

And darker than that morning’s sun

Grows the day

And wetter still, the lawn grows,

The greening of the grass begins

A ticking clock merges

With the silver sound of wind chimes.

Rain makes me sleepy

And cars splash by.

In the quiet of the afternoon

The curtains lift in the breeze

And soft green smells

Find me napping.

By Diane E. Dockum

© April 15, 2017

Good Friday

Pulls its covers

Over its ears

And hunkers down

To think

Of a day long ago

When the earth shook

And a curtain was torn

And blood was spilled

From a vessel

So pure

And selfless.

And why is it called

Good Friday?

The wind is calm

And rivers high,

Rushing over dams.

And April has some days

Left before it turns

To May.

The town grows still

And holds its breath.

The days are strange,

Unsettled,

And we long for peace.

Why is it that peace

Has never come?

By Diane E. Dockum       ©April 14, 2017

A funky white van

Sat in the parking lot

Of the credit union

But it wasn’t the van that caught my eye

Although it could have been

Up to no good

White vans usually portend foul play

As I pulled in to make my deposit

I noticed some large birds

— Dark chubby birds

— Not the normal run-of-the-mill

— Kind of birds

And did a double take

They were the tweedy kind

Black and white hens on a road trip

And they were milling about

Taking the air

Apparently needing

To stretch their legs

And after a reasonable time

They hopped back in the van

And drove away.

Seriously, I never saw a human driver.

By Diane E. Dockum

© April 13, 2017

I’d like to have

A secret garden

Behind a high stone wall

With a gate

That needs a key

That I can keep in my pocket

Or around my neck on a chain

I’d like a place

To meditate or

To swing on a garden swing

And kick my feet out over the air

And tuck them back under again

I’d like to grow roses

Along the wall

Red and white and pink

So their sweet aroma will fill the air

As I sit on my chaise and think

I’d like time that is all my own

And a blue sky with just a few clouds

Hours to fill with my own free will

Behind my garden wall

By Diane E. Dockum

©April 12, 2017

Friend A Long Time Gone

Thank you for taking time out of your day

To visit if only for a minute or two.

I’ve missed our talks.

We’ve been through a lot,

And you needed to talk today, didn’t you?

Wish I’d been able to sit for a while

And listen to all of your news,

But I was surprised and I found myself talking

Too much, when you needed to.

I’d like to apologize and open my heart

To take in what you needed to say.

Your eyes said so much,

You controlled yourself well.

I hope you find healing someday.

And after you’ve gone again for a while,

I hope we will be able

To visit again —

Really visit again.

Did I say that I’ve missed our talks?

We’ve been through a lot, you and me.

Safe travels, my friend.

Be good to yourself.

And remember your way back home again.

By Diane E. Dockum

© April 11, 2017

On a narrow back road through the woods

I followed the moon home

Floating high in the sky

Wrapped in a gauzy web of clouds

Reflecting the sun that was

Setting in purples and salmons

In my rear view mirror —

The moon glister polished the branches

And skimmed over the pond

Taking a dip in the black water

Then up though the trees —

I followed the moon home

It lead me down east

To my little house

On my little street

She knows where I live

I see her now waiting

On the steps of my porch

Lighting my pathway

Guiding me home

©April 10, 2017, Diane E. Dockum