The Old Pear Tree groaned
For he didn’t fancy
Reporting the loss of his fruit
To the Master Farmer.

First, this year, there was the
Agricultural Expert’s penultimate disappointment.
No tomatoes to harvest.
Cold night temperature had stunted their growth.

Now a band of Midnight Marauders,
Too close to humans in skill,
Let alone appearance, descended.

The rapacious Raccoon , a horde,
Raped the stately, gentleman-like
Tree of its pommes.

“Two week before they are
Human-ripe,
Ready for wine, jam or pie.”
Said the hell-bent Leader,
“We’ll eat up, fine enough for us.”

Flanked by his orderlies
The Commander ordered his
Ultimate charge. ‘Scavenger the branches,
Drop the fruit for the underlings below to gather
And head for high ground.

Meanwhile, as the Farmer,
Disappointed for the second time
Had no recourse but to
Feverishly shake his head
And admit,
“Well, they with those long fingered hands,
Bandit-masked eyes,
And sparkling night eyes.
They put on a good show.”

“My bounty, my bounty, stolen cried the Tree
What a crime—thievery.
Unabashed past the misdemeanor of
One fruit pinched, a few here or there,
Not my whole crop.”

“Looks that way, Tree.”
Said Farmer,
As
With a healthy grin, he
Engaged his electric zapper.
“Looks that way, to me, Old Tree.”

Charlene James Duguid
Amissville, Virginia
August 1, 2021

One soul
Soars grandly, lyrics in tune
Pitching with wafts
Of his secret, exclusive riffs
To the tiny part
Of his universe.

He will grow,
Easily — loved,
Whispered upon
From moment to moon
As needed,
Not much more
Nor less.

By winds, then water,
Pure and clear,
The trees arranged
Just right.
Blue will be his favorite hue.

His life,
A Series of “Soul Stories”
His name changes by the day
And task.
Arranged by magical folk
Of clan and kin,
With languages, he’ll never learn
Welcoming him to this plot, this play.

Prayer warriors, the god mothers,
Eccentric people
On his path to happiness
Secure their spell
Better than one would guess.

Never a ruffle in the waves
Merely the baptismal spring
Announcing,
‘’Today his name is,

Baby

Tomorrow, who can say.”

Charlene James Duguid
Amissville,VirginiaJuly 28, 2021

We just finished with a major snow removal operation for a neighbor 2 doors away. 
Elderly couple, husband currently at a rehab center after a long hospital stay due to the Chinese Communist Virus. 
Wife worried sick that he was gonna die in the hospital and she couldn’t even see him due to Covid protocols.
Then she was buried in a lot of snow on top of it. 
We had severe storms back to back.

It was her 75th birthday yesterday. 
We got her flowers. 

Jackie’s main deal now is getting vaccine appointments for as many people as possible. 
We get them to the vaccination sites for the shot.

We don’t know how people in their 80’s and 90’s are expected to do this on their own. 
So far, I think we’re up to about 15 people for their 1st shot. 
People are really happy when they get their shot
and don’t have to be
so
afraid
anymore.

Now passing
Too quickly
The Earth’s sphere

Nearing the Moon
With its
Companion star

I’d like to fly between the two
Separate
Them
For
A
Moment

So when rejoined
They’d know their love again

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia
Recast June 23,2018

Once, only once,
The Magic Marble Man
Forgot his line.

But what a time
To “go up.”
The command performance
Had been in the works for months.

Trumpeters engaged,
Jugglers hired,
Singing mermaids,
With a few baritone mermen
Thrown in for good measure.
Swimming in.

And there he was,
The one and only Marble Man
Gone blank,
Not a word coursing through his
Brain.
A vacuum.
Ah, yes.

Brain, yes, then it came.
In a split-second.
“Brain.”

“The key to all knowledge is
The juicy syrup of the brain.”

As he sent forth the declaration with gusto,
He knew he’d never lose the knack.
It was just one of those things,
Just one of those crazy things.
His own bell starting to ring
In his unique way.

The Magic only the Marble Man
Created
At his fingertip
Just one of those things.

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia
January 16, 2021