New World

Eyes are wide open
Just don't look back
It's a new world
When changing tacks

Double Nickles

Double Nickles, that's my count

Still many more for me to mount

One Of Mine

Playing the blues by the shuttle line
Throwing down rifts sounding so fine
Changing the Zen to one more fine
Asking for dollars and getting one of mine

Darkened Rain

Changing a flat in darkened rain is a task that merits much disdain

Communing Together

It's empathetic interface

Stylized action laced with grace

Dignity directed at personal space

Communing together interlaced

Never a need to save one's face

Lessening And Improving

When getting ready to be moving
I'm finding its really quite behooving
To have a plan for all of our stuff
Especially since there's more than enough
Progress in sorting and choosing is soothing
Finding that lessening feels like improving

Squaring The Past

Clearing the attic
Casting away
Lightening the load
Making the way
Deciding the keepers
Packing them well
Donating the rest
Declining to sell
Spurring memories
Processing once more
Smiling at many
Ignoring the bores
Healing some hurts
Ridding bad ballast
Gearing the future
Squaring the past

Creative Destruction

The Encyclopedia Brittanica
A construct now replaced
Manually captured knowledge
Paper bound with a leather face

Numbered volumes in aggregate
Scoring what humans have raced
Evolution trumps the status quo
Now physical delivery is effaced

To the internet's unbridled rise
Brittanica's bust can be traced
Creative destruction embodied by
The name WikipediA in boldface

Where's The Empathy?

Crammed in the train 
Passengers complaining
Snow playing havoc
With commuter training
It's easy to gripe
With schedules cut
Patience a virtue?
Anything but
Where's the empathy?
They're trying their best
The women and men
Wearing railroad vests

Poetic Order

Balls in the air are flying about
Juggling things I need to surmount
Thoughts and feelings, early today
Poetic order before entering the fray

Ready To Swerve

Vigilance is called for, a readiness to swerve
Really must slow my pace - can’t see ‘round the curve
No worries about obstructions, debris is easily stowed
Its those freshly formed depressions; seasonal scratches in the road
For even if I’m ready, and especially when I’m not
The potholes, they’re a comin’; causing the road to rot
Assuming shapes and sizes, of demonic diversity
Presenting themselves in places, so very randomly 
Triggering jarring thuds, that come when taking a hit
Especially the craters - they’re mini gravel pits
Impact causing grunts and swears, provoking me to twitch
Hoping my round tire rim, hasn't bent an inch
Time to call the highway crew, and plea they bring their tar
Vigilance is called for, we must protect our cars
So even if we’re ready, and especially when we’re not
The potholes, they’re a comin’; exponentially increasing in lots

Glue That Binds

Love is the glue that binds me to you
My darling, my wife, the love of my life
Life is a journey, moments become the past
Love is the glue that makes it all last

Charting The Next Leg

With the holiday hustle showing signs of an end
And next year approaching, sitting just around the bend
Time to get ready for calendar swaps
Milestone marked by depressurizing pops
Maybe a resolution, then again, maybe not
There’s always something to tweak - is it time to stir the pot?
To begin something new? To dare to be bold?
Or to keep a habit long held faithfully in the fold?
Starting can be tough - and ending’s not so easy
The thought of change can make some quite queasy
I’ll trust my gut, I’ll know what feels right
Then chart the next leg towards optimal delight