Gingerbread Man Guards

Eucalyptus, pine and succulent wreaths on gates,

fancy up the chain link stairs to my cabin.

Rains did their best to melt down grosgrain ribbons.

Bobcat tore under the side to try at one of the sultans;

but ginger bread men act as soldiers in the kitchen.

Grandfather's elaborate trains in the basement 

sold off boxes before we made it to the souq.

Did the Shiite militia keep the tracks?

A tunnel appeared to barrel bomb cars.

It's somewhere in rubble now.

Missing days of believers at home.

Mailing letters to Santa, 

tucked under comforter prayers.

This too is passage.

Entropy wears on cells.

.

Noble fir stands tall with

whole ornaments from

calamity of puppies of the past

knocking over trees.

Missing that dog's tail.

A cross guards 

over her in the meadow.

Mother always says, 

"I'm doing my best!"

With and exclamation point, yes.

This too is passage.

Holding heart with cheers.

 Days before Christmas.

Copyright Caroline Gerardo 12/19/2016

Un-Named

Un-Named

Name Steve Poem

Ash
struggles,
I doctored in
 heat of summer.

Deep soak nights,
mound compost
wide as canopy

pray Santa
Ana storm
don't strip
last leaves.

Saint Ann, mother of Mary, hinted in the Qur'an, unnamed in the New Testament. 

Devil winds wake Grandmother. Tree lost everything. Naked stands fifty feet offering

branch for Screech Owl Nanna to wait. Nanna perches in the rung near my window. 

Frame cracked open, her call wakens. That song welcomes. Less work for me.

The owl box dropped from a brittle branch. Please help me carry it up the

 lodge pole pine shading the chicken coop.

Wooden box weighs sixty pounds,

 hung in the ash tree,
 falling into sea, 

fear stops me
fixing this
project alone. 

Mistletoe lasts,
enormous tear drop 

on bald charcoal lines.

Up on the extended ladder 

it becomes Christmas decoration. 

Recall the  glitter ball from 2014?

This ornament with one use life.

Nature unsaved in plastic for a year.

Tissue paper doesn't protect the past.

A
Silkie
chicken is
in
"hospital." 

Name Steve (her name,
hid in a box for bought for office move) struggles.

Inspiration from cardboard printed with name______   location______.

Brown crepe wrapped Steve's belongings. Name Steve treated unjustly.

go sans
feathers. 

Boost diet
 protein grow

- she screams
for siblings. 

Daughter
cuddles
appeasing
loneliness.

Fall
birds play:
woodpecker, 

crowds of jays, 

Costa hummingbirds. 

Rhythms of needs simple. 

Insurance, payments for college

and snow tires do not worry them. 

Care for young, find seeds and water. 

Fear arrives and flies in the hot breeze. 

Wheelbarrow chips in the cool morning. 

Maybe go to Rancho Santa Ana Gardens,

hike the Morgan Trail, or finish paintings?

Days soar
by,gain
speed.

Caroline Gerardo Copyright November 12 2016

Name Steve Poem

Flood

Blue and white dishes that were in the secretary

Life's messy.

Tragedy with daughter lead into Christmas Season

The beginning of my holiday.

"No harm," I kept chanting-

After finishing I went to bed early.

Around two in the morning a hissing sound woke me.

Carson was gone skiing and Blair in Colorado.

Perhaps it was only the wind.

Honey (our elderly Golden Retriever)  started 

howling - this of course engaged the pack coyotes

in the canyon.

There was no moon.

I went downstairs with a baseball bat.

A slugger wasn't the proper tool.

First step down, icy wet-

The whole downstairs was filled with an inch of water.

I ran out front in a white gauzy nightgown 

to turn the main off.

Then my flood cleanup began...

I'm writing a book about drought and the irony

made me keep on track from crying.

Why waste the liquid?

Without running water I hosted family Christmas dinner.

I gave a toast about persevering.

Dinner was grand.

A flood is not going to get me down.

I'm a good swimmer.

How was your holiday?

Family Christmas Tree

 

This year my children voted not to purchase a Christmas tree. I have mixed emotions about the decision. Instead of my elaborate tree, we are donating a medium sized tree and presents that they made and purchased for a family who lives in their car. I sprung for a hotel room for Christmas Eve for the family. I am not going to post their pictures or names as they asked to keep this quiet. I suspect they worry that their two children who do not attend school might be removed from their hard life.

I live in an affluent neighborhood. I notice an increase of not just single homeless men, but now families. The last piece of normal they have is to sleep in their automobile and solicit donations in the shopping center in front of WalMart. I cannot tell you exactly what lead this particular family to lose their home, but I know the struggle to find employment becomes more difficult by not having a stable place to live.

I admit to a selfish wistfulness. I will miss not having a big tree with my gold and silver ornaments that I have collected over the past nine years. I lost all the prior ones in a fire. My ornaments each have some special handmade memory. I have not figured out how I will hang them, thinking fishing wire from every window, but this seems like more work than I have time to budget. Silly and frivolous concerns when I compare myself to a family without a decent place to sleep.

Things have not been easy street for my family this year. I look back on holidays in my past and am thankful of the support I have from the large and meddlesome network I have covering my back. I will have fifty some family and friends for dinner on Christmas Day. I invited my adopted car family but they seem embarrassed to show up. A few of my siblings expressed distress that I might include persons that they worry might make the celebration awkward or uncomfortable. I am not passing judgment on anyone, just doing something I think might help their eleven year old son and fifteen year old daughter to hang on to a memory that offers a more hopeful future.

I wish I could give more.