by Kelly

Half way through the meal

I’m making for us, rage grows —

He watches TV.

by Kelly

Talk on local news

is spring flooding — in Egypt

unrest overflows

by Kelly

“You’re way prettier

than those girls on Top Model,”

Hubby says — Smart Man

by Kelly

dark clouds moving fast

mad momentum gathering —

the TV goes black

by Kelly

interfaith marriage

on CNN because of

Chelsea Clinton’s beau

What do these pundits

know of me and my husband?

I stab the remote.

Outside it’s humid

83 at 8:30

no forecast of rain

I sigh into the

stickiness, breathe it in

till I acclimate.

Then, turning around,

I open my front door to

the cool air of home.

The news from Chile is eclipsing the news from New Hampshire.
Alison is still without power, I’m assuming, otherwise she’d be
posting her own little poems. The last time we spoke, her cell phone
was almost out of juice. However . . .

Haiku Must Go On!

And so … once again, I’ve penned a short verse in Alison’s honor:

She’s sick of playing

Little House on the Prairie.

When can she go home?

by Kelly

a gust of wind

rattles the chimney — Hubby

turns up the TV

by Alison

this open meadow,

this country house, this child with

a television

by Kelly

Amazing Race: Tense.

Top Model: Drama. Gray’s: Tears.

Season Finales.