he lies to me once,
will lie again and again,
no remorse, no soul
all trust is foregone
i run in a wicked storm,
leave his heart to bleed
he lies to me once,
will lie again and again,
no remorse, no soul
all trust is foregone
i run in a wicked storm,
leave his heart to bleed

City Refugees
It is upon me now—the Virus.
I didn’t see it coming, didn’t
plan as well as I might have.
Others say they saw the signs,
but they really didn’t.
Might I leave the city?
Reporters and politicians, doctors
and scientists lecture me, from
pulpits deep inside my laptop,
‘we are all in this together’.
Are we?
can’t—no—don’t want to get going
monday mornings, am I right?
or sunday evenings
dreading my job all night
you know that report you gave him—
three weeks ago?
board meeting coming up
he needs it redone tomorrow

Fifty years I’ve walked Sherwood Beach road
to the footbridge crossing Soldiers Creek
Never have I seen a bear or cougar—the four legged variety
Only black labs, goldens and similar domesticates
Walking my golden this morning, a jogger passed by
I heard him coming from behind
bells on his hydration backpack jingling
That’s right city slicker, you’re scaring the bears!
Greeted me with a hearty, “Morning!”
I remained distant, caught in disbelief,
mildly amused by his appearance,
as he ran on
approaching the bridge, in the woods,
which crosses the creek on a narrow path
offering no opportunity for escape
Wild animals lurking around ever corner
Closing on the bridge he began
clapping his hands enthusiastically
as though a grizzly bear might turn
and run from the sound of jingle bells and applause
Silly Jogger-man