Old Woman's Hands (+1)

Each vein

is a memory

Each wrinkle

attests

Her bones

dry and brittle

Her grip

still arrests

Each day

brings a promise

Each night

a regret

Her will

is sustaining

Her heart

is at rest

She speaks

in a voice

that is shrill

out of tune

While losing

her wits

often

long before noon

But when

that itinerant

coyote

calls

She looks

down

at her hands

— and remembers it all

(Cody Senior Center: November, 2025)

A Poets Cell Phone

I’ve left it on rock ledges

elevators and bars

Taxicabs, backpacks

and motorcycles far

It sat on the Great Wall

as I walked away

And fell out of the raft

in Wyoming that day

It flew on the airplane

after I’d gotten off

Spending two days in Key West

 Fedex as the cost

It’s kept me in touch

that’s important I know

But the voice it records into words

— much more so

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)

My Cell Phone Voice Recorder