A Trinity Woman proffered, caressing
In her palm, a scarf.
“It seems unbelievable, truthfully though,
It will work miracles.”

With electric-blue eggs
To set the scene,
The Italian silk, a Beauty, chimed out,
With church bell echoing,
“Dearest, Enjoy me.
I’m the ultimate in fine taste,
The singular accessory for
A fascinating woman.
No need for diamonds.
Rubies, emeralds.
Sapphires pale.
My swirling colors will define
Your look.”

‘“It can really do that for me?
A guarantee?”

“My Lovely, there are no guarantees
In all of life,
Yet this comes close.
It vanishes years,
Smoothing wrinkles.
When you smile for joy
You capture a youthful glow.”

“It does sing to me.”

With that, a wispy breeze caught
The delicate edge, whisking it
Like a magical surprise
Round Dear Lovely’s yearning shoulders.

She marveled.
Found herself shedding
30 pounds,
Mysteriously erasing 15 years.
Rejoicing in total rejuvenation.

“Oh my, it’s astonishing.
I’d like a dozen,
Please.
No need to gift wrap, they’re all for me.
Must be sure they will last me out.
Glory be, a heavenly treasure.”

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia
August 6, 2018

When the symbols of your life
Have been destroyed
You can do one thing only,
Continue on,
Meet the next day
And the one after that
Without fear, yet without hope.

Too much to ask
The Almighty replace
Exactly what you have lost
Exactly what you have loved.
Something small, a useless remnant
A used-up thing only you would
Cherish.

People who like to dress up
Have no name
Or none that I know.

You’ll say smartly,
“They are called actors,
Stupid.”

“No. no.
That’s a totally different category.
I mean in everyday life
They contrive a way to dress a role
Fully but carefully, as not to
Be on the brink of scorn.

They dream of living in gnomish castles
Or firehouse with shines brass poles
Or best of all ships
Bedecked with banquet tables
Lost at sea never to return again.

In my palm I hallucinate a diamond
Or at the least a sparking silver nugget
No one will convince me otherwise.

For those who say it is a millimeter ball
Of discarded aluminum foil
I say
“Take your reality and leave.”

I want my dreams
Tied up in pink ribbons
Having a blossom’s scent
And rainbow’s colors.

Misbegotten moon
Cure the hole so wide the sky
Cannot groan enough

His big smile deceives
Washes over all not right
Meant to cancel pain.

Bacon, why is it
So favored among all foods?
Fat, my dear, fat

Colors changed history
What? Mauve, scarlet, indigo.
Chemistry’s magic.

Schedulers control
Our lives, our destinies now.
Weep little blue bird.

Lent, its meaning now
In a shopworn world, makes sense
Only when others come first.

One perfect cherry remains
Past the warmth of summer
Waiting for a tribute to its
Flavor.

No one sang a praise song
None cared to trumpet its deep, rich color
Or the droplets of nectar waiting to stain
The serviette, the linen of a Victorian Age.

Why care?
It and fruits in array
Tumbled in and out of ‘well-stocked markets.

Until one day, they were gone

Unknown to humans,
It was the very last the world would know
Left uneaten as a memory of life
Before the flood
Before the fire
Before the bomb.

One perfect cherry, seed intact
Shines with dew.

If only the storms stayed outside,
Raged over islands and tropical trees,
Raining torrentially
Miles from me
While my roof holds tight.

Instead it fractures my heart,
Tosses my spirt with a strength
That throws me off my feet
Destroys any sense of equilibrium.

Balance exists no more
Logic flees my home
Pressing me first against a crumbling wall
Then
Threatening I will become a wayward kite.

Calm escapes
My nerves go to their edge
Pleas, nor prayers remedy my state.
The barometer rules.

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia

“It’s always my fault.
If they didn’t scratch, the itch
Would subside quickly.
You see I really don’t have
Much power, the irritation
Goes away.”

With that,
Mosquito found another victim,
Juicy four year old
Out to capture fireflies.

“Yum, yum yum, can’t wait.
When they call you
Sweetness, Be assured they really
Mean it.”

He approaches in fighter-bomber mode
Nears, prepares, and BAM,
A hidden barrier knocks
Him off target.

“Drat, I thought those home remedies
We’re out of style.
Look what that stuff
Did to my stinger,
Damaged for life.”

“I’m not a menace, let’s make peace.
Why am I the culprit when you know
How good they taste, naming them Sweetness,
Candi, and Honey. Splendid names.”

“Truce, truc, tru, tr, t. ………”

With that Mosquito met his Maker.

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia
July 18,2028

Hers was widely-known.
His was legend.
And at this Centenarian’s birthday bash,
The truth of the best would be told.
An epic event.

Neither would back down.

Each determined, wearing sophisticated taste buds.
Each weighted approach precisely defined—
Ingredients, Process, Technique.

She, left much to sparse individual effort,
time restraints, coarseness.

He, banked mostly on exceptional chopping.
Bladed precision never sacrificed.

And the Prize?
So ephemeral.
No one would mention it again
But the Town would know
Who had won out.
Who had prevailed.

Table ready.
Croissants and sour dough warmed.
Faces eager.
Mouths watering.
Reporter scribbling.
Photographer clicking.
Ballots ready to count.

Whose would it be,
The Cavalier Caterer or the Conscientious Chopper?

One taste only, all it took.

Then the emergent winner
Shared his secret.
Two droplets of old-fashioned
White vinegar
Clinched his Crown.
Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia
August 1, 2018