Tree Covered Mountains

Rain Swollen Rivers Green Grass

She Left It Behind

Hot Sun Sandy Dunes

Warm Water Big Wave Surfing

He Cannot Let Go

We are the authors of our own stories Choosing which memories to hold on to

Which to toss out

Emotions grab hold

Tight

Won't let go

Dictating our choices

Deciding our stories

Telling us who we are

Am I a social butterfly

The happy go lucky Tigger

Or am I a melancholic blue

Down in the dumps Eeyore

Which stories do I tell

Which memories do I hang onto

Which emotions control me

The author of my own story

One

Nest

She Twitters

He Preens

Eggs Laid

Now

Ten

In Winter’s lonely darkness,

A gentle rain falls to the ground.

Twinkling lights gaze upon city streets.

Friends and Family gather around.

As Mom, Dad, and Grandma, too

Prepare the room for Baby to come,

The rain drones on and on and on

Rhythmic and steady as a drum

Then the rain stops, the clouds part,

Outside the window rises Father Sun.

Bathing Mother Earth in Golden Light.

Baby boy arrives at Dawn.

Two friends diverged in a foul mood,

And sorry I could not remain fair

And be a friend to either, I stood

And stared at one as long as I could

’Til she turned and hid behind her hair.

Then looked I at the other gone sour

And she perhaps the better thought out

Stated it was women’s darkest hour

Though fought since first feminist power

Was announced by fair Suffragette.

For both that morning equally lay

Hopeful voters would announce a win

Oh, I too felt optimism on that day

Yet knowing how hidden habits stay

I doubted politicians would ascend

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two friends diverged in a mood, and I,

I took the option less traveled by,

And so bowed out of the arguments.

Helga Roe Conklin