A Choice

Posted on June 22, 2026 by merrildsmith

Monday Morning Musings

A Choice

“Because hope is the essential spark that lights the fire of change. But hope is a choice. Whether or not we use our voices to speak up is a choice. Voting is a choice. Being a decent human being is a choice. Believing that we still hold the power to build a country that reflects us all is a choice.”
–Michelle Obama, Speech at the Opening of the Obama Presidential Center, June 18, 2026

“The sky is falling.”
—Chicken Little, folktale

Every day, every second,
the choice to get up, to move,
to soar, to fall—

swirls of currents,
ebbs and flows,

cloud-dreaming, star-searching,
yet gravity-bound,

we bounce, we roll
into an algae pool,
or into the light, a choice

to see the sky falling
or see the river reflect and sparkle–

“here be dragons,” perhaps
or flowers, family, love,

see how flocks tend their young,
bees, their colonies,
calls and responses in honks, chirps,
dances

watch how animals play.

There is so much tearing down—
so much destruction
(everything he touches)
perhaps the sky is falling

perhaps we can raise it again. Perhaps we
can spark hope,

a flame of knowledge, the light to see clearly,
a campfire for sharing dreams.

We can each choose to be decent, to care,
to laugh together, to soar.

Hello again! This week has been one of ups and downs and contrasts. First, there was the bread-and-circuses fight fest at the White House, where the lowest of the low put on a spectacle and insulted former First Lady Michelle Obama (racist, sexist shoutouts to the lowest of the low). This was not an event that celebrated the nation or Flag Day, it was an event to celebrate the dementia-suffering brat child occupying the White House. Billionaires and spineless GOP toadies attended it. Then, we had the opening of the Obama Presidential Center, which took place on Juneteenth (a holiday the felon did not acknowledge). The Center itself includes a museum, a public library (because both the Obamas actually read! and support literacy and learning), and gathering places. At the ceremony marking its opening, the both Obamas gave inspiring speeches, the musical entertainment included, Bruce Springsteen, Stevie Wonder, Jennifer Hudson, John Legend, Christina Aguilera, and The Roots. Former presidents and first ladies from both political parties attended, except the Trumps, who were not invited. Stephen Colbert attended and wore a tan suit.

The weather has also been back and forth—hot and humid to hot, but pleasant. We need some days of steady rain, but we’re supposed to get thunderstorms today. I hope not too violent.

On Thursday afternoon, I attended Paul Short’s Write Here, Right Now writing group. It’s at night his time, but fortunately for me, it’s afternoon my time. Even though, I don’t often say much, I still find it helpful. (To be honest, I’m still a bit intimidated by the brilliant poets in the group.) Paul also runs an open mic and has an upcoming prose poetry contest. You can find out more –he is @paulwritespoems on all the socials.

On Saturday morning, I attended dVerse’s Open Link Live. It was a very small group, but it was fun because we got to chat. After this week, dVerse will be on a two-week summer break.

Our cats look forward to our farm share box on Saturday mornings. I like how they make up games to play, just like children do.

On Saturday afternoon, my husband and I went to William Heritage Winery. I thought it might get too hot, but we were sitting in the shade, and it was beautiful! Our wedding anniversary is later this week—48 years! We decided this year, we would just do a bunch of things throughout the week, instead of something on the day. So, Saturday afternoon was the start of our anniversary week. It was lovely—and then coming home, we stopped at a light, and our car just died! We were blocking traffic, but at least, it didn’t happen on a highway or in the middle of traffic moving on a busy street. We sat in the car waiting for AAA, and eventually, a man offered to push our car backwards into a shopping center driveway while his wife directed traffic. We were very grateful. AAA finally arrived shortly after that, and we had the driver tow us home. Now, we still have to get the car repaired. Fortunately, my husband’s big, old boat of a car still works (I won’t drive it!), but we will probably stay pretty close to home this week. So, we were both pretty upset about the car, but then there were those kind people. And then early on Sunday morning, I got an acceptance from a poetry journal! I am choosing hope over despair.

On Sunday, I went out for a early morning walk to catch the summer solstice sunrise. That afternoon, our daughter and son-in-law took us to a Eight and Sand brewery, a nearby brewery, which is unfortunately closing (though new owners are keeping it as a brewery). As one of their final events, they had Father’s Day trivia. Our daughter brought some donuts she had made, and it was a fun time. Our team name was what it says on his shirt. We did not come in last!

Keep calling, writing, protesting, and correct the lies. US citizens, make certain you are registered and make certain you vote. We’re going to need every vote in November. Another choice—choose to be on the right side of history.

I made this reel, and it makes me laugh every time I watch it. I hope it works here (sound on).

View this post on Instagram

Look for the helpers and be one if you can.

Now As Midsummer Approaches (with audio)

Posted on June 19, 2026 by merrildsmith

Now As Midsummer Approaches

you whisper
shivelight,

slink into sun-shot shadows
turned amethyst, the sky bluing.

You whisper again,
robin-chirp and crow-chatter,
faint as the wraith moon,

It is time,
there is time
for love, to love

each movement in the symphony,
summer-storm snare and kettledrums,
hawk-whistles, goose-horns,
a crescendo of light–

your whispers swirl about me,
I’m caught–

tree-sough and rose song, the laughter of daisies.

Poem, “As Midsummer Approaches” by Merril D. Smith, read by Merril D. Smith

A revised version of an Oracle poem from a couple years ago. I’m sharing this with dVerse Open Link Night. Maybe this is a Juneteenth poem, too.

Unburnished

Posted on June 16, 2026 by merrildsmith

Unburnished

He believes he’s the stuff
of legend and myth, sun-god,
rising,

but we’ll remember—briefly—
gold-plating and grift,
the reek of corruption,

offal sliming in the sun,
maggots, stench,
less than carrion–useless

underworld inhabitant,
still mired in debt—judged—
repayment in endless Sisyphus-tasks.

For dVerse, a quadrille (poem of 44 words) with the prompt word “myth” to be included in the poem.

Aftermath

Posted on June 15, 2026 by merrildsmith

Monday Morning Musings

Aftermath

“When it all feels so big
‘Til it all feels so small”
—“So Big/So Small” from Dear Evan Hansen

After the late-night barrage, artillery booms,
and cutlasses of light,

laundered clouds hang on a line, fall,
drift–

and the trees wave
their greenest arms

while songbirds greet
the bluest blue,

eagles glide over you,
and osprey’s hover,

all of us, the universe’s prey,
buffeted, caught, breezed away–

while time turtle-crawls
and rabbit-hops,
on a one-way track,

And everything seems so big
and so small—

rivers and sky,
a perfect rose,
a bewitching bee—

magic is random,
horror routine,

wars and trillionaires,
a woman miscarrying without medical care,

the White House wasteland, greed,
corruption–

children in concentration camps,
children left alone.

When will it be over?

When it’s finally over,
what will we say,
what will we remember,
and do?

Perhaps the greenest green
and bluest blue,

eagles in flight,
light after the storm.

A perfect moment, a day.

Hello again. It’s been another week, hasn’t it? We had quite a storm last night. Thankfully, no tornado, but I was awakened by my phone alerts of flash flooding—“Critical!” it said. Unfortunately, I think the birthday spectacle at the White House went on? I am disgusted about what he’s done, both to the People’s House and the corruption and greed of this event. Well, the nonstop corruption of this regime. Apparently, everything was tagged by advertisements, and the demented one owns stock in many of them.

But we did see his name removed from the Kennedy Center, so that’s something. Hundreds of thousands of people watched livestreams of scaffolding, just waiting to see his name come off the building.

And there’s another maybe cease fire. We’ll see. And the Epstein Files. And so much corruption. Follow the money.

We did the usual Sunday morning protest. This week there was a band, and a pretty good crowd, even in the heat. Not too many MAGA oafs, but a few. They seem desperate, and usually angry. Often they demonstrate who they are by yelling things like “faggots.” And one guy kept driving around with some kind of recording of Tr—mp speaking. That is some special ignorance and/or brainwashing, for sure.

It was a busy week for me. I participated in an online open mic last Monday afternoon, and then the launch of Shored Fragments: Poems in response to Eliot’s The Waste Land on Wednesday afternoon. It’s a wonderful anthology, and I’m so pleased to have a poem included in it. Both events were hosted by Matthew M.C. Smith, editor of Black Bough Press.

We saw Dear Evan Hansen at the Arden Theatre on Saturday afternoon. I remember te musical was very popular, especially with high school students, but after my kids were that age, so it wasn’t one that I knew very well. Though not my favorite play, I thought it was an excellent production. The casting was perfect, and my husband and I found a lot to discuss about it, as we enjoyed wine and cheese afterwards at Old City Vino. (We ordered a pizza when we got home. Sorry, no photo, Steve. It was around 8PM by then. 😉) We took the train into Philadelphia, as we usually do, and walked through Franklin Square, the park by a Patco station. There is a Chinese Lantern Festival going on there now. During the day, when it’s not all lit up, you can walk through for free. I also left my thoughts at the “Declaration Station” set up in the garden at historic Christ Church in Old City.

One morning this week, a pair of bald eagles flew right over me (photo with the poem). Magic is random, but it happens.

Keep safe all.

Look for the helpers and be one if you can.

Wanderer Wandering

Posted on June 11, 2026 by merrildsmith

Wanderer Wandering

Sea-suspiration, sense its kisses,
candy corn sun and white gumball moon,

sister-secrets, smoke-shifted,
star-drifted–

the universe is poetry,
dark, delicious, dazzling,

sad, joyful, broken—

do you see?

This is how the heart flowers,
seeds, blooms again.

Every if meanders through the garden.

The magnetic poetry Oracle helped inspire me. Today would have been my older sister’s birthday. She died this past February.

It’s Time

Posted on June 8, 2026 by merrildsmith

Monday Morning Musings

It’s Time

“Among the things Billy Pilgrim could not change were the past, the present, and the future.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

“All time is all time. It does not change. It does not lend itself to warnings or explanations. It simply is.
— Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

I time-travel in memory, dreams, through

neuron portals, pages of books
shape-shifting, step-tracing

cloud-chasing, moon-racing

how sad to always be here (or not)

how sad not to remember—or care
about now—or then–

or who

whatever,

it happened,
the hate, the wars, the one to end all,
the ones that preceded,
the ones that followed,

though some will try to erase the pages,
burn the books, arrest the artists,
demonize the designated “others”—Jews,
immigrants, people of color, LBGTQ—

the cosplaying Nazis
have become real,
storm troopers douse rainbows
lightning bolts
bisect hearts

where have all the flowers gone?

Long time passing.

The flowers die to grow again.
The rabbits, chicks, and goslings come again.

Most parents protect,
instill “life lessons,” as my niece says,

(though some should never be parents, as
we all know.)

Still,
even the best, must let their fledglings go . . .

Time was and is.
Time will be—

Time is passing, time flows,
and we are the specks, the drops,
the rain and rivers, earth and sea.

So, it goes.

Hello again! Well, another week. On the positive side, I got to watch so many goslings! I was worried because I hadn’t seen many, but it seems they simply arrived later this year. I watched the two in the video, who had minds of their own, as their parents tried to get them to the river. Then I think I saw the same two the next day also as their parents tried to corral them. Sometimes parenting seems universal. 😂

But the world is a hot mess, as everyone who is paying attention knows. Every network, every newspaper, journalists everywhere should be calling out how insane the current regime is. None of this is normal!! Kristen Welker did calmly call him out, and he lied, acted like a spoiled toddler ,and walked out. I can’t keep track of the craziness. It’s been nonstop since he took office, but now it’s at a whole new level of insane. His Flag Day/ birthday celebration with the UFC monstrosity erected on the South Lawn of the White House? It’s shocking and disgusting, and probably illegal. You can read more here and here.

One of my senators, Sen. Andy Kim, has gone back to Delaney Hall –where he was pepper-sprayed—to check on conditions there again. He wasn’t allowed to speak to any of the people detained there, but what he saw concerned him (for example, an obviously ill woman).

My husband and I participated in two protests this week—one outside of a Citizens Bank. Citizens Bank funds the GEO Group, the organization the operates Delaney Hall and some other private prisons. There were a few MAGA types who called out, angry and obnoxious. But it’s only a few. Besides middle fingers and F- Yous, their big important comments were, “get a job (or life). And one guy who just kept yelling, “when was the last time you got laid?” Like, WTF? We’re protesting concentration camp funding, but he’s more concerned with showing he’s some kind of macho man. MAGA showing us who they are, right? But then there was a father and daughter who came and briefly joined our group. Someone told me they were from S. Carolina, and the girl wanted to join our protest while the mother was inside Wawa (a convenience store). I love that this will be part of her story; that she’ll be able to say remember that time when we were on vacation, and I helped and stood on the right side of history?

The other protest was our local Sunday morning protest. I think that one gets more positive reactions.

I’m not virtue-signaling here. I’m not doing the hard work out there like some people are, and I know it. I’m simply saying what I’m doing, as well as using my voice on this blog and in my poetry. I know not everyone can go out and protest. No one can do everything, but everyone can do something. Pick something you can do—call/write your Congress critters, donate money and/or supplies, write letters or postcards, help with voter drives, and combat dis and misinformation with facts. Here’s a roundup of mobilization events coming up. You can also check Mobilize and Indivisible for events where you are.

As you may have gathered, I re-read Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut. I may have more to say about it in a future post. I remembered, too, the journalist Linda Ellerbee, who used to end her shows with “So, it goes.”

We went to the first Vino and Vibes of the summer at William Heritage Winery. It was at the start of hot weather here, but not humid, and there was a nice breeze, so it was quite comfortable. The next few days got hotter, though still not terribly humid, but we did put on the a/c. On Saturday afternoon, after the protest, we went to Buzby Farm. This is the farm that provides our wonderful weekly share. Every year they have an open house, where those with shares can pick some strawberries for free, and enjoy strawberry shortcake and lemonade. We didn’t go for the tour this year because we’d had enough sun by then!

We finished Margo’s Got Money Troubles. We ended up really enjoying it and getting invested in the characters. We’re still watching Widow’s Bay (episodes drop on Wednesdays), and we just started The Boroughs, which does seem kind of like Stranger Things with older people. I want to see where it’s going.

And speaking of going, it’s time.

Look for the helpers and be one if you can.

The Cure is Us (With Audio)

Posted on June 5, 2026 by merrildsmith

Poem: “The Cure is Us” by Merril D. Smith, 2026.
published in These poems kill fascists, compiled by Fin Hall

I’m sharing this with dVerse Open Link Night. Slight quibble that my name is misspelled in the anthology.

Tomorrow, June 6, is the anniversary of D-Day, when the US, along with its allies (remember when we embraced democratic allies?)–nearly 160,000 troops– fought fascism on Normandy’s beaches in 1944. Now, we those in power are embracing fascism, racism, and White Supremacy. Tomorrow, some will be celebrating D(emocracy) Day.

Cat approved!

Something borrowed, something blue

Posted on June 3, 2026 by merrildsmith

Something borrowed, something blue

The day is a present,
something borrowed from time,
white bread clouds
dip into a jammy egg sun—

something blue(sy) in river-sighs
mirroring the sky–
a breath in the riff

where the horn-honk of geese
slides through—

a memory savored, sipped,
unwrap the gift.

A pause in the current horrors of our world. For dVerse, the poetics prompt is to use or build on the old wedding rhyme,

“Something old, something new
Something borrowed, something blue
And a sixpence in her shoe.”

I didn’t know the sixpence line.

This is also a quadrille (a poem of 44 words) for the dVerse prompt where we were to use the word horn.

Hole/Whole

Posted on June 1, 2026 by merrildsmith

Monday Morning Musings

Hole/Whole

“A great hole. In the middle of nowhere. The hole is an exact replica of the Great Hole of History.”
Suzan-Lori Parks, The America Play

Holes in history. Unnamed people, not rich, not important enough, not the right color or sex.

Clang! Thud!
Unburied, unearthed, fragments–
more questions.

The way we see the moon, in phases. But it’s always full, always there. Proximity, time, ever-changing faces. Pockmarked. Whole.

Holes
when a star dies,
ghost light

travels through time-space. Blinks to photons. Billions of years to us. So much light streaming in cloud-cracks, creating shadows. Buried, it reappears.

there in a tidepool. In a glass of wine. Glow.

Reborn
same laugh, same gestures,
generations

we don’t know but embody. Bodies. Memory-holes. False memories. Holes in the fabric of history, society, time.

The light in our eyes gone. Bone-dust in holes, in clouds, rivers, oceans, the air. Connected. Past and future. Hole-digging.
Bullet holes,
bomb craters,
deconstruction.

construction and reconstruction.

Holes. A whole lot.
Half-notes. Whole.

Hello, again! Something a little different today. I think people will probably hate it or love it. I was inspired by the play we saw on Saturday, The America Play by Suzan-Lori Parks. You can read more about it here.(Tria for wine, beer, and cheese afterwards.)

From the notes of director and character, “Foundling Father,” Lindsay Smiling”:

“Suzan-Lori Parks calls it ‘rep and rev’ repeat and revise. It’s a musical instruction as much as a philosophy. Return to a phrase, a moment, a wound, a myth. Play it again differently. With this lens, the reexamination of history becomes than a collection of facts. It is Parks’ insistence that history is not a fixed record so much as a performance we keep staging, sometimes faithfully, often carelessly, and too frequently, as suggests by setting this play at a replica of ‘The Great Hole of History” with whole people missing from the scene.”

The more I think about this play, the more I admire it. I like plays, books, movies that make me think. Of course, I’m always thinking about history, but right now there are real, physical holes that I can see, as well as the metaphorical ones. There’s the monstrosity of the White House and what the current resident (inmate?) is doing to it. Illegally. There are probably holes in his brain. There are gaps in his knowledge and understanding of the Constitution, laws, history, democracy, and on. His regime is trying to erase people and events. Websites are beginning scrubbed. Displays on slavery taken down, including this year at the President’s House in Philadelphia, which a judge stopped, at least temporarily.

At the same time, there are archeological holes dug every summer at the park where I walk. It was the site of an American Revolutionary War battle. History is still being done. The United States was never a Christian nation. It was always a nation that held people of many religions and colors. It has always been a nation of immigrants, even as restrictions have been put into place during various times.
This administration has been demonizing immigrants, especially those of color. These are NOT the worst of the worst. At Delaney Hall, where there are currently protests taking place because of the horrendous concentration camp treatment given to the detainees there, approximately 87% do NOT have criminal records. We heard one of our senators, Andy Kim, speak at a town hall style meeting on Thursday night. He had been inside the facility, a teenage girl, a high school senior, who wants only to graduate translated for him. He spoke with a woman who has been mostly separately from her newborn; a woman who miscarried, who has not received medical care; pregnant women who are not getting prenatal care. He heard about inedible food, saw the court docket—one judge who was supposed to rule on seventy-some cases a day, and on and on.

New Jersey has a primary election tomorrow. We voted early on Saturday. On Sunday morning we participated in the local weekly protest we haven’t done for a while. Some people there had been to Delaney Hall. One woman, a social worker, described how Proud Boys got a police escort, while protestors did not. We may be protesting more in the next few weeks. There are No Kings activities scheduled on June 14th, including a big concert in New York, as counterprogramming to the man in the White House’s fight fest extravaganza. (Seriously, imagine the outcry if ANY other president did this!)

https://riseupsingout.com

On Sunday afternoon, we went to a book club meeting. We discussed West With Giraffes, a novel inspired by a real event, two giraffes transported by truck across the country from NYC to San Diego during the Great Depression. I think this time opinion was evenly distributed between people who liked the book (I did) and people who did not. Some people, including my daughter, thought it was boring and repetitive. I did not. Most people who listened to the book did not like the narrator. Several people loved the book and rated it among the best books they’ve read. It wasn’t for me, but I did enjoy it and got caught up in the story. I saw a movie in my mind the whole time of this Depression era tale. I do think it would make a good movie. It was a beautiful day, so we got to sit outside at the brewery for this meeting. I don’t drink beer, but my husband, who had not read the book, enjoyed the beer and the pizza we ordered.

OK. I’ll stop here. Stand up for justice however you can. Stay safe and well.

Look for the helpers and be one if you can.

At the End of May (May Not)

Posted on May 30, 2026 by merrildsmith

At the End of May (May Not)

The wind laughs,
does a dazzle-dance, almost-ghosts
devouring eternity with a breathy kiss.

And you? Given susurrus
and caramel sun melting in a
golden stream,

you ask for blue, for words,
for when, not if–

for time to linger with a smile,
hope’s feathers nested,
waiting.

My poem from the Magnetic Poetry Oracle. I haven’t written one of these for a while.