Under a Parasol

“Under a Parasol”

Wishes weigh like pebbles

In a crushing waterfall,

Fears and hopes tumbling,

Burying it all


Just words and sometimes a good thought,

To shield me down here,

Flimsy, waving parasol,

Looking for good cheer


O, for a wind that could carry me away,

Make this colorful cap strong,

Not mere paper-thin cover-

A thing I can hang on


There drops another fabric tear,

Before I scribble another line-

Now it’ll just stay unfinished,

A ? mark of a sign.


A question mark without its hook,

All I can do is wonder it,

And wish as hard as wishing can

-That’s it.


Just words and sometimes a good thought,

To shield me down here.

Flimsy, waving parasol,

Please keep bobbing near.

Happy Facts for a February Friday

1. Studies show that a large percentage of people won’t use self-checkout stations in libraries because they are afraid that if they do a librarian will lose their job and they care about it that much.

2. There are universities who respond to snow days by providing students with buckets to loan: “For playing in the snow.”

3. Panera’s is beginning to open not-for-profit branches where food is purchased by donation so their food can be enjoyed by those in financial straits.  http://www.bostonglobe.com/business/2013/01/24/panera-cares-pulls-high-donations/e9yyeEIg7VQi2Ip8MdN7aL/story.html


Happy Hopeful Friday to all!

“Pandora and the Pea”

“Pandora and the Pea”


Unsettling hope, even small as a pea,

No matter how much you smother,

Always wins and keeps you awake,

When what you want is there to see.


Say “I am no princess”

as much as you want,

It won’t budge or be buried enough,

Going to bed is just useless.


It insists that it can come true,

No matter how farfetched or far-off.

That little wish can change the whole frame,

Making lumps around you.


You thought you’d climbed so high,

Done well for yourself, rightly so.

But that pestering pea of a thought

Can drag you down from the sky.


Piled on feats feel shaky and rough,

That pillow of confidence thins,

Compared to the voice that whispers and nags,

“Without me, you have nothing but fluff!”


That damned hopeful pea,

Even small as a gnat,

Isn’t letting me sleep,

Won’t let me think free-


All I can do when Pandora’s gift comes,

Is think of that dream

And of what day could bring,

And lie awake twiddling my thumbs.


True royal or not,

I’m sorry to say-

That pea will be felt

All through the next day.