No Title Yet

She sat in the café taking a break from reading. Watching the clock and checking the iPad Mini Trudy knew she’d have to get back to work soon. There was enough time though for another coffee so far resisting temptation to order food; after all there was plenty in the fridge and if she didn’t get to it she’d get to throw it away. Hard choices. Everything smelled soooo good.

“I’ve more self control than that. Hmmfh. Think I’ll walk.”

She pushed back and didn’t budge. “I’m at a booth. There’s determination!” Laughing out loud Trudy headed out the door and toward another café. “Always’ve been curious about the place; hopefully they won’t serve lunch… Grab an espresso, test out their cappuccino prowess and walk back to work. That ought to do it.

Give me time to think about what I want to title this thing…”


Alive and Well


Ravens rested on the rocks of a lighthouse perch

“They look more like vultures between the gulls” I thought

While the sun shone strong in my dirty window as I

Reflected on my walk, the one I just took

It’s not my home but will be though temporarily

As for the apartment, excuse me; flat, it’s a benefit

A perk of my trade giving me more reason to stay


There was one alighted in the tree just outside of me

Another raven of course and the sun hid

Not on purpose I hope, on my account, an omen perhaps

The pale blue sky like some eyes I’ve seen and clouds

Wait for spring to battle winter

No defining color, that is typical for here I’ve learned

Bland fashion


Well in two days it’s March

Make up your mind soon so I know what to wear


Not that dampness, cold fingers from the sea really care

Meanwhile my jacket isn’t dry; the fan in my room

Makes it seem all the colder outside.

I can see out the window with no sun, but even with it

Should it decide to shine, the raven’s still there

It won’t leave my side or sight


Cue a flock of ravens to sail the sky, do they cry evermore

If you’d like, but at the same time the seagulls don’t mind

Unmoved by all going on while pigeons coo

They cover cobblestone, their domain, peck scraps here and there,

And get chased by the children, kicked away by adults


Everyone’s too busy, even the birds

Unable to pause and give day the time

Thick crowds form a sea of heads on the shore

I look up and the raven is not alone, there’re more

Many more, more than I can say for me


“Is it a gathering?”

And I wonder what for