Most seniors never get enough exercise. In His wisdom,
God decreed that seniors become forgetful so they have to search
for glasses, keys, and other things , thus doing more walking. God
looked down and saw that it was good.

Then God saw another need., He made them lose coordination
so they would drop things requiring them to bend over and stretch time
and again. And God looked down and saw that it was good.

Then God looked down at the function of the bladder and
decreed that seniors would have additional calls of nature, requiring more
trips to the bathroom, thus providing even more exercise. God looked
down and saw it was good.

So if you find as you age you are getting up and down more,
and walking more , remember that it is His will. It is all in your best
interest—-even as you mutter under your breath.

As published in MH/OSTA

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A glowering December sky,
cloudbanks in heavy shades of gray,
tentative sun peeking through
the afternoon’s near dark.

Memories intrude of past winters,
of wading through hip-high drifts
on snow blocked roadways,
short miles ahead to hot cocoa.

But here, outside my car, in this time,
forecasts of cold and snow, Snow Days,
will be declared as school buses are sidelined
by a dusting of flakes on city streets.

In my warm car, scoffing at today’s youth,
I am sheltered from today’s gentle cold,
blessed by a magical fob that started and
warmed my car from my kitchen window.

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A swirling burst of wind
whips an eddy of leaves to the sky,
recent shedding from nearby trees,
trees now mere skeletons of limbs
bared of the lush green of summer
and the bright colors of autumn.

Only a straggling of stubborn leaves,
not yet acceding to coming winter cold,
hang grimly to their mooring
and smile down in contempt for weaklings,
now a blanket of brown yielded
to the wind and coming winter.

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The sun has begun its annual hiding today,
nigh on to the cold season, December,
when \nature’s beauty will obscure itself
beneath gray clouds dimmed by rain or snow
and men hide themselves behind walls’ warmth.

The blanket of leaves resting below trees,
but skeletons of near bare limbs,
only a few colored leaves hang grimly
above a brown blanket of their brethern below,
waiting to go aloft on a next eddying wind.

Nature and ploughman alike must rest,
both to regain strength for another season

And the ploughmen’s women
continue to labor on without rest.
Tain’t fair.

gus daum

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When life seems hard
and days look grim,
return to your center,
return to your soul

Once within, where all is well,
open yourself to heartfelt joy.
Laugh out loud and sing all day.
Teach your soul to play.

Walk barefoot in dew wet grass.
Smile real wide to all who pass.
Clap your hands and tap your toes.
Teach your soul to play.

Return again to who you are,
Filled with wonder, love and awe.
Look within, but glow outside.
Show the world you play.

Gus Daum

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In setting out to declaim
we too often only maim
the language of our native tongue.

It was in offer of pure discourse
in prose, in song, in poet’s voice
that brings some here, who are terse.

The multitudes or eager few
assembled now to learn what’s new,
hear but trite phrases, empty words.

Naïve, tis said, to hope and pray
for deeper meaning in what I say.
Words are easy, writing’s hard.

Gus Daum

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Pirouettes. A poetic form, 10 lines, 6 syllables per line; Line 5 & 6 identical.
Lines 1 to 4 in contrast to Lines 6 to 10.


An ordinary day,
no unusual plans
but good things might happen
in all our blessed lives
when simply left to be
when simply left to be
Plant seed of secret joy
secure it in your mind
nourish it, fulsome heart
allow it; it will come.


Strong muscled men or boys
flinging bodies. demon speed
strain to overpower
with force akin to war.
Athletes in common form.
Athletes in common form,
Dainty bodies in full flight
cavort ‘cross padded mat
pirouette on a beam
twisting turning beauty.

Gus Daum

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