“Sweating the small stuff”

November 2026, Day 11

Hydrangea, Vancouver British Columbia Temple

“Sweating the small stuff”

I am good at sweating the small stuff
to the point of not even worrying
about the big stuff because the small stuff
takes up so much of my time
and energy that I never get beyond that.

My vision and thoughts are clouded
with this and that, which leads
to more this and that,
even to the point of commenting
on everyone’s driving,
except my own.

Seeing faults in others
and forgetting my own mote—
maybe more motes than I care to think about—
in my own life.

I even sweat
about whether the dishes
are done before we go to bed.

In my mind’s eye,

I know I need to look
beyond the small stuff,
seek the more elevated view.

I worry, though, about much effort
it will take and wonder
whether it is worth it.

Deep down, I know it is worth it.

So, I will try tomorrow to start anew,
after I make my bed, shave, comb my hair,
read, have a bit of breakfast,
do the laundry from the day before,
brush my teeth, 

and even polish my shoes
that got a little muddy 

when I was out picking up
the few leaves that fell
on my lawn last night.

Firecracker plant, Vancouver British Columbia Temple

“A Generosity of Colors”

November Poetry Month, Day 10

Church and cow in front of a generosity of color

“A Generosity of Colors”

Fall comes naturally
when the weather grows colder
and mornings are brisk and quiet.
There’s a generosity of color
that Fall creates to bestow a stunning

and magnificent array of beauty
to overshadow the demise of summer.
The trees and plants seem to know
their time has come to release
their leaves and blossoms

and send a message to their roots
to let them go to become
something different
than they were in the summer.
But before winter can claim its soul,

fall clamors onto the stage
with a vibrant flourish of reds,
browns, yellows, oranges, golds
and a mixture of all colors—
all a magnification perfectly aligned

with the sun as it stretches from the east
to west, easing its way during the early morning,
loitering and basking into the afternoon glow
amplifying its exquisite beauty
until it seeps, reluctantly yet resplendently,

behind the western mountains
into utter darkness while we wait expectantly
for morning when fall emerges again, flourishing
and dancing, touting its generosity of colors,
not believing its demise is imminent.

“I am at that age now”

November 2026 Poetry Month, Day 9

A field of fabulous flowers

“I am at that age now”

I am at that now when I can eat
as many eggs as I want to in any configuration;
or eat pork chops anytime I want;
or eat red licorice every minute of the day;
or eat ice cream morning, noon, and night;
or race my car down the road as fast as I can;
or read until the wee hours of the morning;
or stay in bed and never get up;
or buy whatever I want at the grocery store;
or wear whatever style of clothing;
or act out in public, deigning surprise
that I really am sane at that moment;
or do so many other things
that I used to feel that I wanted
or needed to do.

But I don’t do any of those things.

I know better. I learned the hard way
that simplicity and a modicum of self-restraint
and respect are much better than hurling
yourself pell-mell into the fray of life
without thought of any consequences.

The anecdote to all this hinges
on living life in a sensible and pragmatic way
so that trouble follows you at a distance
and never catches you unless you allow it.

I happen to not allow it most of the time—

All that has something to do
with gaining a bit of wisdom and knowledge
along the way while swimming
in the froth of life with my head
just above water and trying to dodge
the floating debris of life.

At least I hope so.

“Leaven”

November 2026 Poetry Month, Day 8

*“Leaven”

We put leaven in bread to make it rise.

Just a small amount of leaven can influence
a large loaf of bread, making it full
and pleasing to both eye and tastebuds,
enhancing what the other ingredients
cannot do by themselves.

It is this leaven, our ability to add to
and enhance our surroundings
and make us pleasing unto the Lord and others.

It is the leaven that propels us to do simple acts
of service in the lives of those around us.

Often, these simple acts turn to heroic acts
as people grow and develop and become
what they need to be, what they can become,
what they must become, today and tomorrow
because of who and whose they are.

Along the way, the leaven we share enhances
our own lives, elevating us to be able to see
beyond ourselves and to heaven above
where the spiritual leaven will let us rise
and spend eternity with Him who created us all.

*Inspired by Sister Lauralie Morales, Sunset Stake RS 2nd Counselor (Provo, Utah)

Seven Haiku

November 2026 Poetry Month, Day 7

Bigelow Gulch, Spokane, Washington

Seven Haiku

Bulging clouds linger
on the horizon beyond
staring back at me.

Purple clematis
Climb trellises on the fence
Clinging for dear life.

The morning sun oozes
over the younger mountain
for a moment’s stretch.

Turkeys, young and old,
roll red apples down the street,
peck holes in each one.

Lurking red skies paint
disappearing evening light
with highlights and hues.

Primordial giants
stretching beyond heaven’s gates
whisper somber cries.

Pedals of pure white
a canopy of daises

dancing at sunset.

Red Sky Loop, Cheyenne, Wyoming

“It’s going to be okay”

November 2026 Poetry Month, Day 6

Hydrangea, Vancouver British Columbia Temple

“It’s going to be okay”

We wait sometimes
for a long time
for a shout out
that everything is going to be okay.
Yet the shout out
doesn’t appear immediately.
In fact, it may never happen.
Our hearts digress.
Our minds float onto other things.
Our ears strain to hear
the refrain from others.
Our souls shudder.
But within ourselves,
we can see and feel
that it’s going to be okay
because we think it,
we will it,
we sing it,
we do it,
we move it along
as we trundle
forward, ever forward,
stopping along the way
to rest, reinvent ourselves.
Our thoughts and actions,
respond in positive ways
by ganging up
on the negative,
shoving it to the side,
chasing it away
out of sight
out of mind,
seldom looking back,
lessening its weight
on our psyche
and our doing
what we need to become.

Yes, it’s going to be okay.

Ketchup and Mustard Dahlia

“Morass of Life”

Hammon November 2026 Poetry Month, Day 5

“Morass of Life”

Challenges arise during our lives,
most of them not requested,
not invited, and not appreciated,
at least at the very moment,
when they appear before our eyes,
blind us, perhaps, blindside us
when we least expect it.

With great effort and a daily dose
of Heavenly Father’s spirit and push,
and friends who surround us,
waiting anxiously to help us,
we can climb out of any abyss
or any challenge that might come our way.

Often, we want to be done with it
immediately, but we discover—
much to our chagrin—
we have to learn something
that does not emerge straightway
and definitely not on our timeline.

Often it is drawn out,
tediously, miserably,
and we moan and groan
and then thrash about some more
for extra measure and an added dose
of grief, self-affrication, elongating
our wondrous escape.

When we do learn, we look back,
take a deep breath, sometimes roll our eyes,
and wonder why it took us so long
to point ourselves in the right direction.

Fortunately, we do acknowledge, sometimes
begrudgingly, belatedly, thankfully,
and gain knowledge and great wisdom,
and continue to plow vigilantly forward
through the mountains of morass
that we fondly call life at its finest.

“Does anyone read anymore?”

Hammon November 2026 Poetry Month, Day 4

Shoshone Falls, Twin Falls, Idaho

“Does anyone read anymore?”

Does anyone read anymore?
Or are we at a point
that people have become
snippet readers or viewers

of just video of this and that?
What about podcasts
and other social media?
Does anyone read Huck Finn

or Great Expectations
or even To Kill a Mockingbird?
I am afraid to ask
if anyone knows who Romeo

or Miss Havisham or even Scout might be?
I asked one of my college Institute classes
if they knew about Sisyphus and his boulder
and all I got were blank looks.

Scary! Challenging!
And then many state legislatures
point out that 4th graders
cannot read anymore.

Should we all wonder
what causes all that
or just mind our own business
and read something for them

like Mrs. Jeppsen did to us in 4th grade 

after lunch our heads on desks while tears
clandestinely spilled down our cheeks
as she read Where the Red Fern Grows?

Swans

“The rain has come…”

 

Hammon November Poetry Month, Day 3

Along the Skagit River, Washington

“The rain has come…”

The rain has come.
Finally.
As soon as I awoke,
I heard it.
Rain.
Lluvia.
The pattering of drops
on my bedroom window.
Cries of joy
from distant farmers and ranchers.
Creeks.
Reservoirs.
Even home owners
with large and small lawns.
I stood at the open window,
looked out, looked heavenward,
and sighed hallelujah.
It is amazing when people turn
to God when their lands
are parched and dying,
threats of water rationing
from water managers,
and devastation of livelihoods.
Some say technology, oil and gas,
and bankers run our country.
It’s water that runs our lives.
Without it, there is no technology.
No oil or gas.
Banks eventually close.
Now, I just stare out the window,
listen to the water gurgle
through the gutters, the lawn
and fields seeping with happiness,
and the many people singing praises
they remember from years ago.

"The View from the Mesquite Tree"

 Hammon Poetry Month, Day 2

*"The View from the Mesquite Tree"

At seven, I climbed

the mesquite tree
in our backyard, thinking
I could rise above
the flat of Texas
and see further
than I had ever seen.

I climbed, a bit reticent,
yet feeling strong enough,
and knowing, thankfully,
my brothers had nailed boards
high up in tree
where I could sit
and stare beyond
what I knew to be.

Soon, I sat stoically
on those old boards,
hands around knees,
looked across the span
and opened my eyes wide,
finally able to see
across the world and beyond.

Now, steeped in my unfailing belief
in God, I have unobstructed views
of the Plan of Mercy,
His plan for me and you,
and the sacred view
of the sealing power,
that binds families forever—

simply and magnificently launched
when I was seven,
in a south Texas backyard,
ascending and elevating myself,
handhold after handhold,
up that old mesquite tree,
stopping just once or twice
to rest until I reached
my brothers’ handiwork
only to realize
that it was God’s handiwork
that I really craved.

*Inspired by a story told by Sister Nancy Roney 

during a Sunset Stake Conference, Provo, Utah, January 11, 2025

“Psalm of Darrel”

Hammon November Poetry Month, Day 1

Since today is Sunday and we have been studying the Old Testament, I thought I would share a psalm that I wrote after the lesson on Psalms.

Sunset, Spokane, Washington

“Psalm of Darrel”

Call to praise.

 Praise be to my God, the Redeemer of my soul. I will sing praises daily, on bended knee, in the quietness of the grove, wherever my body and mind may be.

Happy am I to be in Thy presence as my words ascend to Thee, happy to kiss each new day as I rise from my bed where dreams overtake me and send me into darkness; yet, I know that Thy hand is stretched out still to pull me back into Thy loving embrace where I may feel anew and sing praises to Thy name.

Yes, I will praise Thee forever and forever.

God’s attributes

The greatness of thine excellency encircles Thee and extends to me through Thy loving kindness, Thy graciousness that emanates from Thy constant embrace and loving hands, Thy sweet understanding that always overlooks my challenges and shortcomings.

May I sing glory, glory, glory as I bask in Thy redemption and be made clean through Thy Atonement so graciously and painfully given to all of us, especially me during any challenging time.

As I praise Thee, words of love and gratitude shall escape my lips and hiss to the far ends of the earth until they touch the ears, hearts, minds of the world. 

Recall specific acts

Thou has opened my eyes through the beauty of Thine creations, from the sand shores of exquisite beaches to the might and sacred Redwoods to the lofty clouds that saunter across the sky, including those who are boisterous with rain and laughter and ominous threats, to the hay fields of my youth and the mighty Buttes, surrounded by the great Snake River, where my life flowed until they encompassed Thee, and showed me the way along the Covenant Path and find Thee clamoring my name to come and see and do.

Can there be anything more divine, wonderous than finding Thee, aligning myself with Thee, feeling Thy gracious love distilling on and around me on so many occasions?

Yes, Thine arm is outstretched still, touching me at the right moments, regenerating new life each day, elevating me to where I can see beyond my puny self.

Closing vow of thanks.

My soul delighteth in Thy constancy, Thy forgiveness, Thy spiritual nourishment.

May my eyes see, my heart feel, my mind be clear and understand the mysteries of Heaven that my soul be redeemed, that I may be an instrument in Thy Holy Hand.

May eyes and ears and heart and mind raise praises to Thy Name.

May I become a holy seed, a righteous son, and stand at Thy right hand where I may reign with Thee forever and forever more. 

Our transition from Provo to Spokane

Our transition from Provo to Spokane

We have moved a bit in our lives, mostly because of job moves or missions. This move was for an entirely different reason. We moved to be closer to Hailey and her family.

Our Spokane home

The transition has been an interesting one. Living in Washington is just a different state, just like living in Montana was different, just like living in Wyoming and California was different, and living in the Dominican Republic was definitely different. Each place of residence has been full of both positive and negatives qualities and characteristics.

Sunset from the front of our home

When our family transitioned from Lewiston, Idaho, to Miles City, Montana, we read together the book Who Moved My Cheese by Dr. Spencer Johnson who also coauthored The One-Minute Manager. It is a book about change, something that happens to everyone during their lives. His premise hinged on the attitude you have during the change. Our attitude when we moved was that it was going to be an adventure, and it was every single time. We admit, though, that all moves were challenging and taxing, but we somehow survived and thrived simultaneously!

Sometimes you have to give up a few things along the way during the transition, but you gain so many more along the way!

Sunset on Lake Pend Oreille, Idaho,
just about an hour from our home

For example, I gave up teaching Institute classes at the Utah Valley Institute. I loved teaching on Fridays, seeing students’ testimony grow and develop.

I gave up serving in the Provo City Center Temple, and I miss being a sealer. Of course, there is a temple here in Spokane. We were living in Lewiston when it was announced and dedicated. Beautiful temple. We enjoy attending each week. We look forward to serving in the Spokane Washington Temple, too!

Spokane Washington Temple

We have given up our doctors and dentist. This is always a challenge when you move, especially at this stage in our lives. Finding good doctors who are attentive and have openings for new patients can tax one’s patience.

Our friends have remained in Utah, although we can still communicate through social media. We are finding new friends here. Our neighbors have been spectacular! We have received cards, flowers, goodies, visits, lists of places to eat, etc. People love to stop and chat when we are out walking the neighborhood or in our yard.

Our water feature in the front

Changing wards (congregations) can be challenging. Our new LDS ward is great. Lots of people have reached out. Our bishop’s wife called out to us to say hello in Winco just the other day. We are going to be speaking in Church this month. Cannot wait for that….

For us, though, transitioning to a new place has always been an adventure! New surroundings, new places to go and visit, new restaurants, new friends, new everything pretty much. But it is about your attitude, the way you look at things and situations, the choices you make, and then doing something positive about them.

Sunset from our deck

Remember: You are the product of the company you keep, and we choose to keep good company and be good company!

Our family--the company we keep!

And away we go!

Welcome to our home!

"Come Let Us Adore Him!"

"Come Let Us Adore Him"

Christmas 2025

What a glorious season we are in, one that draws us closer to each other and to our Heavenly Father! Usually during the Christmas season With Wondering Awe, we listened to the young children–yes, truly "Angels We Have Heard on High"–sing hymns and carols that radiate "Joy to the World"....” We listen to talented ward and community members who “touch their harps of gold” and let “their heavenly music float/O’er all the weary world.” Today, and the rest of our lives, we must allow “the Dear Christ in.” We all must sense something burn within us. That is the spirit of Christ.

In the precious Christmas hymn "Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful" that we sing at least once or twice at Christmas come three wondrous strains: “Come, all ye faithful,” “Come, and behold Him,” and “Oh, come, let us adore Him.” I sincerely believe that each of these phrases deserves special treatment and explanation.

“Come, all ye faithful”

During this Christmas season, the faithful followers of Christ congregate to sing joyous hymns to Him as we have done today. Note that the Lord did not say, however, “Come, all ye faithful” for just this season. Instead, the words merely state, rather succinctly, “Come, all ye faithful.” The Lord wants us to choose to be faithful every minute of the day, every day of the week, and every week of the year.

Thankfully, at Christmas time, we tend to listen to our hearts more than to our heads, the spiritual more than cerebral, the perennial more than the ephemeral. We seem to want to fix our lives so that they are in accordance with the Lord's. Yes, we tend to “come unto Christ and adore Him.” Wouldn't it be nice if every year we had twelve Decembers? Then we wouldn't have to be trying to repent every 12th month or trying to add kindness to our repertoire of Christmas thoughtfulness.

“Come, and behold Him”

The shepherds “came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in the manger” (Luke 2:16). After the shepherds had seen the Christ child, they returned to their flocks, herds, and families, “glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen....” (Luke 2:20). There also came “wise men from the east to Jerusalem” (Matthew 2:1) and began asking about: “Where is he that is born King of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him” (Matthew 2:2). And we know not how many others came to “behold him” as he lay in the manger or worked by His father’s side.

Often, we believe that to “behold God” we must be completely spiritually pure. In one sense that is correct, but in another, we can behold God–through daily communion with Him and understanding who He really is. Plus, our hearts can be filled with Him always if we but “yield our hearts to God” (see Helaman 3:35).

“Oh, come let us adore Him”

What does it really mean to “Come and to adore Him"? According to that great Old Testament prophet Isaiah, He is called “Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace....(Isaiah )...the Lord Omnipotent who reigneth, who was, and is from all eternity to all eternity.... and President Hinckley added: “Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Father of heaven and earth, the Creator of all things from the beginning” (President Gordon B. Hinckley, “At the Summit of the Ages,” October 1999).

The ancient Prophet Moroni, as he ended his work and closed the abridgment of the record of God’s dealings with His people, which is the Book of Mormon, that glorious book that teaches gospel truths, called upon all who read his ending passage: “Yea, come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny yourselves of all ungodliness; and if ye shall deny yourselves of all ungodliness, and love God with all your might, mind and strength, then is his grace sufficient for you, that by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ” (Moroni 10:32).

Conclusion and Christmas Challenge

Thus, the challenge: “Come, all ye faithful....come, let us behold Him...[and] come let us adore Him.” The real goal is to “Come Unto Christ.” May we accept the challenge and experience the glorious days that the Nephites of old had with the Savior that we may at some time "thrust [our own] hands into his side, and ...feel the prints of the nails in his hands and in his feet...[that we may] see with [our own] eyes and...feel with [our own] hands, and...know of a surety and...bear record, that it was He, of whom it was written by the prophets, that should come...[that when we have] all gone forth and...witnessed for [ourselves], [we] can cry out with one accord, saying: Hosanna! Blessed be the name of the Most High God! And then [we will] fall down at the feet of Jesus [our Savior and Brother], and...worship him” (3 Nephi 11:15-17)….

Therefore, let us glory, yea, we will glory in the Lord; yea, we will rejoice, for our joy is full; yea, we will praise our God forever” (Alma 26:16) who is the Truth and the Light and the Prince of Peace is my Christmas challenge to all!

Merry Christmas and 

a Happy New Year!

“We are all influencers!”

Sunday, November 30, 2025--Poetry Day 30

Lone tree in Utah Lake

“We are all influencers!”

I am convinced we are all influencers
in some way because, like Benvolio,
we are in the “public haunt of men….
[where] all eyes gaze on us….”

What we do affects people—
knowingly and unknowingly.

Often, and much to our chagrin,
many people watch and imitate us.

Our positive self-influence propels us
and others to remember who
and whose we are, always striving
to live elevated lives, no matter
what we are doing or where
we find ourselves in life’s journey.

The key hinges on becoming
what we want to become
and then live and act accordingly.

It’s the little things that we do
or say that make the difference.

It’s about caring and kindness
and compassion and being diligent
in being astute, aware, and anticipatory.

As we trundle through life’s challenges,
embrace the power of your influence
in your own life and the lives
your families, friends, co-workers,
or anyone within our sphere of influence
and never underestimate your influence.

The Redwoods

"Early dusting of snow"

Saturday, November 29, 2025--Poetry Day 29

First snow, Mt. Timpanogas

"Early dusting of snow"

It happened sometime
during the night,
maybe early morning.

The temperatures dropped
during a rain storm
just enough to turn
droplets to snowflakes,
blanketing the high points
and the crevices of the mountains.

The smattering of snow
during the night was seen
by no one until the early light
of morning erupted
through the low hanging clouds.

And I looked
and was mesmerized
by the contrast of green
on the ground before me
and the white cover
on the yonder mountain tops.

Another one of God’s creations
flattering us vividly
with beginning of winter
and lovely white snow.

“Funerals: A confluence of past, present, and future”

Friday, November 28, 2025--Poetry Day 28

Three women in the a.m., Dominican Republic

“Funerals: A confluence of past, present, and future”

Funerals are those events we attend to pay
respects to the family, knowing
they are inevitable in all our lives.
Most that I go to are upbeat and peaceful,
full of passion, laugher, tears, happy vibes,
revelations, a few surprises in stories,
and a sense of humanity and healing.

Children give remarks about the goodness
of their parents, stories of birds, fishing,
them coming to every game and event,
funny sayings that they shared,
and other memories that usually draw
laughter, sometimes surprises, and tears
from both the speaker and the audience.

Talented children and grandchildren sing
lovely and poignant hymns or songs,
some they wrote for this occasion,
on guitars, pianos, cello, violins, and flutes.

Outside in the foyer, delightful old photos,
paintings, drawings, cool memorabilia
and a PowerPoint presentation loops
through the life of the deceased.
We all stop and watch, mesmerized
with the changes over time, knowing
these same changes are happening
in our own lives, more quickly than we want.

As we sit in the pews, our eyes focused
on the front where the casket waits
patiently to be transported somewhere
close by to an open grave surrounded by turf,
we wonder to ourselves what our funerals
will be like, what our families, friends,
and speakers will say about us,
what hymns or songs will be played or sung
or what stuff our children will drag out and showcase.

Perhaps, we shouldn’t worry
so much about that as we should worry
about how we are living today,
right now, and change anything
that might startle the mourners at our funerals.

Towering Redwoods

“Funerals: A confluence of past, present, and future”

Friday, November 28, 2025--Poetry Day 28

Early morning, Dominican Republic

“Funerals: A confluence of past, present, and future”

Funerals are those events we attend to pay
respects to the family, knowing
they are inevitable in all our lives.
Most that I go to are upbeat and peaceful,
full of passion, laugher, tears, happy vibes,
revelations, a few surprises in stories,
and a sense of humanity and healing.

Children give remarks about the goodness
of their parents, stories of birds, fishing,
them coming to every game and event,
funny sayings that they shared,
and other memories that usually draw
laughter, sometimes surprises, and tears
from both the speaker and the audience.

Talented children and grandchildren sing
lovely and poignant hymns or songs,
some they wrote for this occasion,
on guitars, pianos, cello, violins, and flutes.

Outside in the foyer, delightful old photos,
paintings, drawings, cool memorabilia
and a PowerPoint presentation loops
through the life of the deceased.
We all stop and watch, mesmerized
with the changes over time, knowing
these same changes are happening
in our own lives, more quickly than we want.

As we sit in the pews, our eyes focused
on the front where the casket waits
patiently to be transported somewhere
close by to an open grave surrounded by turf,
we wonder to ourselves what our funerals
will be like, what our families, friends,
and speakers will say about us,
what hymns or songs will be played or sung
or what stuff our children will drag out and showcase.

Perhaps, we shouldn’t worry
so much about that as we should worry
about how we are living today,
right now, and change anything
that might startle the mourners at our funerals.

Towering Redwoods

“A Multiplicity of Blessings”

Thursday, November 27, 2025—Poetry Day 27

Provo Lake at sunset!

“A Multiplicity of Blessings”

Some say that blessings
don’t come their way.
It’s how you look at blessings,
how you define them,

and what they do to your life.
They are not usually big items
like Mercedes, large homes,
bags full of clothes and stuff

although they could be.
It’s the small things—
peaceful bike rides along the river,
soothing sunsets and sunrises,

gentle cool breezes in the evenings
after a hot day, fresh apple crisp
with vanilla ice cream, a new day with you in it,
grandchildren’s texts and love emojis,

phone calls from friends and families,
a good night’s rest after a challenging day,
being able to exercise in an air-conditioned room,
feeling healthy despite getting older,

understanding things about life
you never thought possible,
being with your spouse on a daily basis,
being surrounded by beautiful flowers,

watching clouds saunter by,
having a simple prayer answered
in a way you didn’t expect,
knowing who and whose you are—

They all add up, like layers of
sourdough pancakes drenched
in fresh maple syrup, ready for you
to enjoy every moment of the day or night.

Big Sky, Montana

Sunrise at Bear Lake

“The Rhythm of the Day”

Wednesday, November 26, 2025--Poetry Day 26

The Colosseum, Rome, Italy

“The Rhythm of the Day”

The rhythm of the day depends
on the time of day you wake up.
For me, the rhythm of the day
starts early, probably because
that’s what time we had to rise
as kids and milk the cow,
feed the pigs, chickens, and horses,
and then get ready for school
all before the bus came.
My mom didn’t start driving
until I was about 14,
so it was get to the bus
or walk seven miles to school
one way, which was a bit challenging.

Now, the rhythm of the day starts out
early still, for stretching, reading,
studying, and then exercising
all before 9:00 a.m. or 10:00.
Instead of breakfast being
at the crack of dawn, now
it is later around 10:00
and lunch around 3:30 or so
and then a bit of healthy snacking
along the way until bed.

In between, it's about writing,
reminiscing, working in the yard,
taking out the trash, raking leaves,
catching up on the journal,
serving, teaching, and doing
things I want to do at my own pace.

The rhythm of the day continues
its joyful cadence as it has always done
although the melodic notes
may be different pitches
during each moment of the day.

“Daily Stewing”

Tuesday, November 25, 2025--Poetry Day 25

Delicate Arch, a place for stewing and contemplation

“Daily Stewing”

It seems that lately I am stewing daily
over things that shouldn’t be in the soup.
Watching the news frosts me,

turns my heart cold at mankind,
frustrates me to no end.
Seldom are there any positives

that rise to the surface of news.
If so, they are buried back on C1
and even further back

or not mentioned it at all.
And then the people on roads
seem to disregard every rule,

cross the big white lines
to get in out of the HOV lane
without batting an eye,

play on their phones at stop lights
and often need to be reminded
by a few horn honks to move forward,

or people who just roll through
the crosswalk when the kids are in it.
And then the leaves that just float

to the ground, pile up
on the lawn and sidewalks.
I can sweep them off one day,

and they are back again the next day
like people who still come
to the party without invitations.

Stewing about all these things
brings about the froth on life’s edges,
and I think perhaps I should avoid

thinking about any of it, maybe
mind my own business and eating
a few more pieces of red licorice.