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©2016-2018 by Pat Durmon, Poet. Proudly created with Wix.com

November 25, 2019

Mid-week. I head down an aisle in Walmart. There, I see what looks like R2-D2. You remember him from Star Wars, right? He’s the short, squatty one.

I stand and stare.

What am I seeing?

A woman stops her cart next to the robot, which does not move an inch.

I ask, “What do y...

November 18, 2019

According to the weatherman, it’s not winter yet. But here I am with a blanket and huddled next to the fire, watching dried cottonwood leaves on trees as they gently fan back and forth.

My husband tells me it’s 18 degrees outside. 

His words make me move closer to the fi...

November 11, 2019

We’d come from the doctor’s office. Guess we were hungry. Or was it the coziness of the café we needed?

The body knows about pain.

It has known that lesson since we were youngsters when we stubbed toes or had a rock in a shoe. Maybe my first encounter with pain was when...

November 4, 2019

My October was filled with dreams, leaves, critiques, a presentation, visit with a sister, maples, a retreat, and gathering books for a book signing in November at Barnes & Noble.

Not at all what I dreamed about 30 years ago. What would friends from that era think of wh...

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