A Meatloaf Kind of Night

If it’s a meatloaf kind of night,
a gravy laden day.
the green bean of delight,
a fluffy cheese soufflé…
don’t grab a ketchup bottle,
and shake like a beginner…
first none and then a lottle
squirt forth to ruin your dinner.

A Little Boy

Reflecting on the rows of life we've sown
in proper furrows, simple fields of hay,
the mind will turn to troubles that we've known,
to knowledge lost and found along the way.

My life has borne a crop to feed the years,
a bounty for the soul, the food of life--
from joy to discontent, from bitter tears
to children with a strong and loving wife.

The muse begets a lyric, frank and terse,
a harvest of reflection. Rows of time
are gathered to a journal bound with verse
a complicated life in simple rhyme--

from fields of thought to rows of scribbled joy--
an aging man, a youth-- a little boy.