227.  RAIN-SOAKED Rain and more rain never lets up all day. Silhouetted against the slate sky pigeons huddle into their feathers, beaks cracked and worn. On my way home I trudge over soggy pages   of yesterday's headlines, turn up the collar of my coat. Gray weather, gray birds, gray me. *comments welcome

  226. RAZZLE DAZZLE Enchanted, I watch  the sky. Hot air balloons  float, serene. lighter-than-air aircraft. *comments welcome NOTES: Septolet a short, 7-line poem that contains a total of exactly 14 words,  divided into two parts or stanzas. tiny  iridescent bubbles drifting  razzle dazzle

  225. The room cool and shadowy, patches of late August sunshine spangle the wall beside her, brilliant leaf-dappled-light plays  against the vague darkness.  The fading summer sun sets a little before eight tonight, spiraling all the way  to December's earliest sunsets.  I'll enjoy this golden time now, before  the blackness arrives. *comments welcome on at 4:32 PM, on December 9, before  the winter solstice.

  F orever the one who gets really excited when her sky's orange-pink. *comments welcome

224.  ILLUMINATION Bright white sunlight scatters stark rectangles across a corner of her desk. Distracted, she notices the show outside her window, flowers  gaudy in the late summer heat,  like old women wearing too much  make-up to disguise their age. Daisies wallow in lethargy, ragged daylilies droop tiredly beside the curved concrete drive, straining to stand tall again. The green exuberance of spring has given way to blowsy indifference. August drags into September, the circle of the seasons pounds with a strong regular rhythm, leaving her vacant heart racing. *comments welcome

223. RHYTHM OF LIFE  Today I chatted with my daughter, laughed at a cute story she shared. Then I scrolled. Filed my nails, but only on my left hand. I'll file the other nails tomorrow. And I scrolled. Called my brother in memory care. And scrolled. Wrote a few lines for a poem. Then I scrolled. Stared at the oak trees in the backyard. And scrolled. Made sandwiches and fruit salad for 2. I scrolled. Organized a dresser drawer, wrote a sympathy note, paid a few bills, scrolled some more. And on and on and on, same thing, over and over. Hooked on social media, my old routines are fractured now. *comments welcome I hate that I'm hooked on social media. It didn't exist for most of my life  I was better off.

CHANGING Acorns pattered down by the thousands, a mast year. First whisper of fall, the oak leaves trembled and she felt it. Today became tomorrow; the future rushed to meet her. Not yet, she pleaded. https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=651093412738250 Just now, the leaves fluttered on the old oak first whisper of fall and I felt it. Acorns patter down by the thousands, a mast year, Tomorrow's  already changing.

222. CHANGES Acorns pattered down by the thousands, a mast year; oak leaves trembled, first whisper of fall, and she felt it. Today became tomorrow; the future rushed to meet her. *comments welcome I felt it just now; the leaves trembling on the old oak, first whisper of fall . Acorns pattering down by the thousands, a mast year. Today's  already changing, the future comes to greet me. *comments welcome I won't be left behind. shielded from life's reality yet to come. Everything then seemed possible and within reach. tomorrow comes to meet me. sparkling like sun pennies on the lake of my childhood.

221.  I loved it and I lived it and then I came out  on the other side. *comments welcome

230. Ahhh, the anticipation,  stolen   glances,  awkward hugs,  sweaty palms;     time-honored rite of passage, first love is no small matter. DEAR MARIANNE                                               Reluctantly I houseclean      the attic, come across a packet   of forgotten letters  in a box tied with faded blue ribbons. Memory pulls me back. June 20, 1963 Sorry about my handwriting. I'm sitting on a cot in my tent, clipboard on my knees, flashlight in one hand,  pen in the other, swatting mosquitoes!   I adjust my glasses,   decide to read all of them, drag a worn chair close to the window, return to the summer of 1963. I'm fifteen, in love for the first time. June 27, 1963 It drizzled yesterday afternoon,   rained torrents last night. Today is the first day it hasn't rained. If you have an ext...

220. GOODBYE HUGS Yesterday we hugged our 42 year old son and daughter-in-law goodbye before they got on a plane to fly home to Brooklyn. We've been generous  with our hugs over the years. They have to last us for a long time; the kids don't come back that often and things  change too fast.  I cried for about  20 minutes after they left. I tried not to but when I put my arms around him  I couldn't stop  my tears. At 6 foot 3 inches he's a tall guy, which makes him almost 12 inches taller than I am. I felt old and lost. His dad was stoic but I know he was crying inside. *comments welcome