Not much a nuisance
But nonetheless, pesky fly.
Not in ointment, still

Be done with it, fast
One felled strike, perfect swat aim
Murderous. Blame me.

Better than insect
Footprints tromping in my jam
Cheers! Sanitation.

Charlene James Duguid
Amissville, Virginia
July 11, 2020

It began with one
Fallen robin from a tree
In a city back yard
Nothing unusual.

Than as if on a
Johnny Appleseed mission,
This John took off across country
Rescuing birds, species by species
Combining a Chapman’s passion
With a Noahian dedication,

Disney would smile at the images
That abounded on this trek.

Ursula, proud to be
Opinionated,
Took no time to share
The full extent of
Her philosophy,
Not only her
Random thoughts, with me.
Life was better then.
People were human,
Concerned.
Conversation was an art form,
Especially for a devotee
Steeped in Shakespearean lore.
Ursula revels in every nuance

Each turn of phrase.
Her internationalism
Springs from a
Highly-evolved sense
Of Old World Switzerland,
Its tortes and tarts.
Who needs meat and potatoes.
The chiffon pinkness of a dessert cart
Rolling in creations,
Each with a cherry atop,
Is nutritious, an inspirational
Sugar-high jolt needed to loosen the thoughts.
Never enough chocolate
Or creme
For this Swiss Miss,
The Strudel Queen.
As with
Every noun and verb uttered,
She prevails
With an icer’s precision.
Her wish, the return of
Conversationists,
Verbosity allowed as a necessary evil.
That’s Ursula,
My Ursula, still on the
Search for the finer,
Elegant ways of
Dotting an “i”
With a dollop of
Heavy whipping cream
On the side.
Charlene James Duguid
Amissville, Virginia
June 28, 2020

Watching myself live
Is exhausting.