photo by the author

I can’t think about it
Losing this old bridge
It’s been a part of my being
Almost as long as I’ve been me.

They’ve planned to build anew
For three, maybe four years now
But it won’t be the same
I can’t even imagine how.

Almost every day
We cross her great span
Our tires echo
As we cross her metal seams.

Two ospreys live on top
They thrive on our river
They raise their young
And then set them free.

The plan is to move them
Relocate to somewhere else
I’ll bet if they had the choice
They wouldn’t dare accept…


Photo by Zane Lee on Unsplash

One table, one chair
Single pen and some paper
Is there anything else?
Could I be any safer?

I slowly close my eyes
So the spirit can appear
He brings a smile to his face
He eliminates my fear.

Tucked away up here
So high in our loft
Out this circular window
Oh, the clouds, so soft.

There’s no one here
They will not be coming
It’s just you and I
Then the words start humming.

Things speed along
Each line in its place
I feel so high
We’re in outer space.

Rockets are blazing
Let these words flow together
Will we…


Photo by Gabriel Tovar on Unsplash

I will always remember the first time I saw the beautiful reflection of the moon in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

Our family of five was still young, our baby boy only two. I’d told my wife that I wanted the boys to see the ocean, remembering how amazed I’d been at the sight of it when I was a boy. I’d woke that first morning and saw it through a sliding glass door, its turquoise waters stretched to a curved horizon, the extraordinary scale of it testing my own limits of believability.

New to the scene

As a family, we’d never…


Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

To read and write all through your days
Finishing one draft, but not wanting
To put the pen down, yet, then
Uncertainty, this fear that rides along

But still, you lay your pen down, gently
With a foreboding thought, quiet but there
You follow through the mundane chores
Listening to the world around, waiting

Who knows what the next idea will be
Or when your muse will return,
Bring you back to the clean white linen
With gleaming eyes, ideas to explore.

Again, you will twist the words
Turn the phrases to fit in places
Remind yourself how to work in lines
Rework…


Photo by Greg Rosenke on Unsplash

There’s a certain pattern for laying them down
Each one has its spot and must be nailed precisely
Doing it yourself adds a lot to the process
You feel good and productive, quite a bit lively.

There’s a repetitive motion that comes into play
Tape measure and chalk line become your friend
It becomes second nature and you'll be on the move
Until you remember what the weather can send.

Could be rain or even snow
Think what time of year
Know that summer’s the worst
Helios, he can really sear.

You work in stoic rhythm
One that no one really…


Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash

You wrack your mind
try to overthink it,
nothing comes to you,
so you forget it.

Now it’s off to the races;
pen to paper, fingers on keys.
It will flow for a while,
at least you think it.

You like what you write
it seems destined for a place.
You begin to steer it there,
knowing things will change.

One twist and then a turn,
still a phrase that isn’t right.
One word out of place,
you put it away for the night.

Back at it again,
the curtain is falling. …

Frank Larkin

Husband, Father, Writer, Future Retired Paper Mill Employee, Eco-Friendly — Peace-Loving — Pet Owner

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