She hears it strummed
And runs toward its twangy
Folk fulness.
Heart free, never sad.

Always true and bright,
Donald plucks his tune.
Special, his alone.
Still there.
So bright.

“Smile, my Love,
I’m ever close at hand.
Kissing you, my Lady,
Gentle as we remember it to be.”

Ever dancing
With the strains
Of Time.
Years are moments
Till we meet again.


Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia
August 7, 2020

Fly Haiku

fly.jpgNot 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

Avian Angel

IMG_9131.jpegIt 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.


Delicious, Delectable, Delirium

GettyImages-516352039.jpgUrsula, proud to be
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,
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
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.

As is

Spying on a swallow,
Identifying itself as a wren,
Feeding her young.

Depletes my evaporating

This cannot be.

I must try capturing a gerund,
before it’s too long.

I wash my headache away with the
Fly-by of a meadowlark,
Generous he is,
Sending me help.
His message for making things right.

“Don’t sit sulking.
Remove your robe.
Cast it aside.
Drop its folding on the rug.”

He’s demanding.

“Straighten your back.
Plant your legs.
Send your palms toward the sky.”

Not wishing, but doing.
Running naked,
Primal, essential, being human.


And singing unashamedly,
Feeling the grass,
Proud of it.”

Charlene James Duguid
Amissville, Virginia
June 18, 2020