Widow

Cardinalis cardinalis

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A cardinal came to visit me
He brought his little wife
His bright red feathers tickled me
And brightened up my life

I’d been alone for quite some time
Was missing you today
I watched this little couple 
Flit about and dance and play

It made me smile and shed a tear
To see their tufted heads
So sweet their partnership was clear
Their song from beaks of red

Though the rain was coming down
They seemed happy as could be
And I was thrilled that they had flown
And landed in my tree


By Diane E. Dockum
©April 25, 2023

The Catalogues Have Arrived

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
To paraphrase Phil 
From the movie City Slickers
If Catalogues were people I'd be China!

Something happened
When I reached 
Senior citizen status

Each day, catalogues arrive
In stacks of colorfully emblazoned 
Glossy paper, filling my mail box with temptations

There are the ones for clothing
If you are fat, with arthritis, and can’t fasten buttons 
Or for when you travel, which I never do

There is the hardware store 
Kind, with whatever works for
Whatever kind of household hack you need

There are the salves and potion
Kind, with subscription-worthy pots
Of goop that one absolutely needs

There is a little catalogue
Narrow, with a tea bag sample
That offers countless kinds of tea

Jewelry, make-up, razor blades
Vibrators, oils, candles
Wigs, and toupee catalogues

Where did I sign up for this
Deluge of paper?
Is there somewhere I don't know about

Where it's leaking catalogues
And if so, can I stick a rag
Into that hole?

Yet, some days I pick them up
And look, just in case
I might need something.



By Diane E. Dockum
©April 19, 2023

Unmoored

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I am alive
So they say
Yet it is up for debate 

It is true 
That I feel like 
A hollow log

Floating unmoored 
Down a river 
Spinning 

Turning 
Bumping against waves
And other debris 

Flotsam and jetsam
In the gin weeds
and pucker brush

Perhaps one day
I will drift ashore 
On the other side 


copyright by Diane E. Dockum
March 15, 2023

Seventh Month

/ marblehillpress / 1 Comment 
Rolled over for a cuddle
Forgot I was a widow
Swear I felt you 
Get in bed last night
Could almost hear you breathing
But then the sun came up
Only to expose the pile of pillows
On your side of the bed

The sun has come and gone
Thirteen times this week
The sound in my ears
Is the vibration of the earth
In the quiet of the day
It reaches a high pitch 
When darkness comes
And I pull the curtains closed

Today the frozen rain
Hits my windows hard
I try not to eat too much
But wander from room to room
Without getting anything done
Your closet is still full of shirts
I cannot bear to pack
And dust is gathered in your shoes

You’re never coming back
Oh, by the way
I eat in the kitchen now
Instead of the living room sofa
Watching television
It makes me feel like a person
With a place mat and silverware
In the correct places


January 9, 2022
©Diane E. Dockum