There is Nothing Poetic

There is nothing poetic

about waiting until the kids are in bed

to replace a toilet’s wax ring.

The caulk I applied

a month ago

(after replacing the last wax ring)

is deteriorating

and has me worried that I did something wrong.

There is something comforting

about learning I actually had

installed the former wax ring correctly

but also frustrating

that I am redoing it.

There is something confusing

about thinking I knew why the caulk was cracking

only to realize the root problem

must be otherwise than I thought.

Thank goodness for my father & father-in-law

whom I can call for suggestions.

After yet another trip to the hardware store,

I hope I can resolve the problem

tomorrow.

I hope also that I can have 

something useful to say

when my son

or son-in-law

calls me

years from now,

10:30 at night 

mid-project.

That might be poetic.

 

Mike at the DC Temple Open House

There's a toddler who's sure

all the elevators are gold,

and if you start to walk him up the

stairway to heaven,

he'll ask to push the buttons.

When you explain

it's for the elderly in wheelchairs,

he'll ask you to carry him.

As you carry him 

past the baptistry 

then up the east spire's spiral steps,

dipping your head down to see the reflecting pool below,

he'll ask to go swimming.

Thinking of water will remind him,

upon arriving at each floor,

that he's thirsty;

he'll probably request to drink from the golden water fountain

and ask you to push the button.

Then,

it will be his turn to push buttons.

As he squirms and twists

and talks altogether too loudly near the altars,

you'll tense

and it'll make you wonder,

ooh, it'll really make you wonder,

about Abraham and Isaac.

There's a panicked feeling you'll get

when you look to the west

and see he is striving for leaving,

springing past the stanchions

spurning the signage against such actions,

stopping only when you snatch him.

Being ensnared in your arms again

won't make him happy,

but when he looks into the facing mirrors

in the celestial room,

he might notice his image goes on forever,

which means he'll be

quiet

just long enough to look up and ask

"What's that?"

and repeat "chandewier" slowly.

Then,

he'll be off again. 

Your head will know what it feels like

to sleep on a rock and not to roll off 

as you juke betwixt the multitudes

ascending and descending 

as he takes to this ladder himself.

When he finally reaches the bottom,

he'll probably be tired,

which means he'll be in your arms again

despite the ache in your back.

As he snuggles on your shoulder,

your emotions will drop 

a few tiers 

reflecting at the thought

of forever.

And as he winds on down the hall,

no shadows falling from his soul,

there walks a Man whom you will know;

He shines white lights and wants to show

you

how all inside 

him 

can turn to gold.

And chances are,

once you’re back in the foyer,

he’ll ask to push the buttons 

to the golden elevator

and play stairway to heaven

again.

DC Temple Pic: https://newsroom.churchofjesuschrist.org/article/washington-dc-temple-open-house

Check out the Richmond, VA, Temple Open House: https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/featured/richmond-virginia-open-house

My Burden is Light

My burden
is
Light.

I am the light of the world.

The light which is in all things,
which giveth life to all things,
which is the law by which
all things are governed.

The light that shineth in darkness,
and the darkness comprehendeth it not.

Take my yoke upon you.
Then are ye my disciples indeed:
Ye are
the light of the world.

A city that is set on a hill
cannot be hid.
Neither do men light a candle,
and put it under a bushel,
but on a candlestick

to give light to them that sit in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide their feet
in the way of peace.

My word
is a lamp unto the feet,
and a light unto thy path.

All ye that kindle a fire,
that compass yourselves about with sparks,
that set yourselves up for a light unto the world
that ye may get gain and praise of the world
but seek not the welfare of Zion, 
walk in the light of your fire,
and in the sparks that ye have kindled -
this shall ye have of mine hand:
ye shall lie down in sorrow.

I Am
the true light
that is in you,
and you are in me;
otherwise ye could not abound.

Therefore, cease from all your
light speeches,
from all your lustful desires,
from your pride and
light-mindedness.

If your eye be single to my glory,
your whole bodies shall be filled with light,
and there shall be no darkness in you;
and that body which is filled with light
comprehendeth all things.

That which is of God
is light;
and he that receiveth light,
and continueth in God,
receiveth more light,
for light cleaveth unto light,
and that light
groweth brighter and brighter
until the perfect day.

Learning to be Happy

Share a "haikaption" (haiku caption) in the comments for this pic if you feel so moved!

My attempts are here.

(reminder: haiku is 5, 7, 5 syllables)

 

Pioche, Nevada

 

Leprechauns have placed

pots of black gold at the end

of modern rainbows.

At Larry's fuel shop,

iridescent oil slicks

bedazzle the drab.

To Subtract Fractions

These are not the words

one expects as a response

to encouragement.

Rather than rebuff

and court further entrenchment

on this battle line,

I laughed. Then we laughed.

Common denominators

being requisite

to solve this problem.

Sometimes we wax improper

to subtract fractions.

The Clothesline

A childhood friend shared with me he'd bought roof-top solar panels.

My wife informed me that we'd bought a clothesline.

"They won't pay for themselves until someone else owns the house,"

he told me,

"but that's okay - it's the principle that matters."

"With 3 kids and 1 in cloth diapers,"

my wife told me,

"it'll more than pay for itself soon,

so we can put more down on the house's principal

and focus on other financial matters."

When I briefed my friend on how we were also using solar power,

he admitted his solar-panel-o-meter shifted 

from showing a surplus 

to relying on the grid

whenever he ran the dryer.

"With 2 kids in sports and 1 in Pampers,"

he shrugged,

"it's just too much work to dry all their clothes on a line."

I nodded knowingly.

I'm glad that the people I know

keep me apprised

of so many meanings of

and methods for

"going green,"

though I am reminded

by some of them

of a Rube Goldberg Machine

as I picture the manufacture

and installation of solar panels

to absorb the sun's energy

and convert it to electricity

in order to run a dryer

while the Amish

go direct from sun to clothes.

Perhaps it's us

who are amiss,

and they are

ahead of our time. 

Of course, the panels power

more than the dryer,

but will they end up

in the same place

as the Pampers?

And is that better or worse

than the coal burning somewhere

to power my washer?

These debates, pro- and con-,

about renewable energy

leave me feeling

hung out to dry,

particularly when both sides 

become more entrenched in their positions than 

the engine oil stain that won't come out of my high school drama sweatshirt,

and especially when my clothesline

wasn't accompanied by a government subsidy.

But 

as I watch my underwear

wafting in the wind with the cloth diapers,

waving at my neighbors walking by,

I feel my worries, 

with the water,

evaporate

into clouds

that I guess

will block the sun for both

the panels

and the clothesline,

as we all get swept along

together

with the Tide.