Just One More

If it’s just one meeting

or just one hour

Just one assignment

one committee

one fire;

Just one correction


or call




and fall

If it’s just one more minute

or morsel to chew

If it’s just one more,

the machine is irrelevant

and the product is you.


Five-minute Poem 6.2016

There’s a breeze in the air

and big flowering bushes are taking over the sidewalks

much to everyone’s glee,

as they peruse the outdoor menus and those windows-full of over priced, raw cotton caftans.


Normal June, plain-old-tourist town. Nothing has changed as the season rolls in.


The world is churned-out, wobbling on its axis. We’re dizzied by death and think pieces.


But the breeze in the Berkshires still blows.