This Place

It is winter and I have aged considerably

since last spring. With that said, I haven’t

bothered to clean this place for months

on end. Oh, I’ve had lots of time to do so,

just not the energy or will.

You are the first visitor the dogs and I have

had in quite some time. When I get disgusted

with the dust and dirt I pretend I am a hermit

living in a cabin in the remote wilds of Alaska,

a place where it is unruly and earthy all the time.

There is no need trying to keep anything but

the cold outside. Here, the Earth holds claim

on everything inside and out the same. Don’t

mind the mess. At my age and in this time,

I surrender to Mother Earth and her ways.

So, come in please and add some warmth and

charm to this aging place in soulful disarray.

Take off your coat and hat and have a seat;

no need to worry about wiping your feet. The

dogs and I no longer bother, why should you?

Chris Hanch  1-18-16

The Reason

There is a reason you don’t remember your birth

And those first years on Earth. Nothing yet has a

Name. You feel it, but you haven’t yet learned the

Word, pain. You are tickled and amused, and your

Smile is a natural reaction, but as of yet you can’t

Explain. There is such a long, long way to go, and

You move on, but as of the moment, you just don’t

Know. You are wet and uncomfortable and you cry,

But lord knows why. You press on because this

Whole living business is new for you and you have

Not a clue as to what else to do. So, when you reach

A certain age, lets say 3, 4 or 5, you realize you are

Alive. You now have the words for hunger and pain.

It’s a good thing, though, that you still don’t know

How much work there is to be done. There are so

Many words to learn, so much you need to define

To make things in your life better or worse. You still

Haven’t quite figured it all out yet, but after lunch

And a nap you’ll go at it once again. You think naps

Are a waste of time. You still have a long way to go

Before you know. If only you had the words.

Chris Hanch  1-16-16 

The Hat

While in Athens, I stopped at a shop. Under the bright and warm

Aegean sun I was in need of a hat, one brimmed suitably to protect

Me from harmful UV rays. I learned quickly that when shopping

In Greece, should you pick up an item of interest, you will imme-

diately be accosted by a sales person who attaches them self to

You like glue and will not let go until you have decided to buy.

(Greeks are consummate peddlers of the first degree.) I myself

Am of Greek heritage, but have been Americanized from birth.

My attitude towards sales are far more relaxed. High-pressure

Techniques are not part-and-parcel of my makeup. Anyway, I

Tried on a nifty, white, straw Panama. And the salesman sha-

dowing me was quick to comment, trying in his best English to

Be complimentary: “Oh, how wonderful! You look just like Al

Capone,” he said grinning from ear-to-ear. He could not have

Picked a worse comparison as I am tall and thin with lily-white

Skin and a full-blown reddish-tint beard. But I was amused and

Fortunately for both him and me, attracted to that particular hat.

Had he chosen Alexander the Great as a look-alike in his assess-

ment, I may have more than likely tended to agree. I could have

Then asked enthusiastically if by chance he happened to have any

Of those horse-hair-plumed Corinthian helmets in my size?

Chris Hanch 1-7-16

The Visitation

Father, in your lifetime you were never

able to see the homeland of your father.

The Virgin Islands during World War II

was as far out to sea as you ever reached.

Ah but you gave me life, and for both of us,

I made it across the wide ocean several times.

And grandfather’s land of Greece is a beauti-

ful place indeed.

In a way, we all came from these ancient

foundations. Look, from here you can see

the Acropolis and Parthenon. What a mag-

nificent creation. And my, how brightly it

shines against the enduringly blue Aegean Sky.

Chris Hanch  1-4-16 

The Recliner

The recliner has seen better days: the fabric of its arms

worn smooth and frayed; its seat cushion flattened, form

fitted to the weight of lounging every day.

The headrest is oil-stained from lengths of unkempt hair.

A stranger or visitor to this place may indeed consider its

seasoned state a grimy disgrace.

But salvation lies there, a resting place from exhaustive habits

performed over the years. The old man is comforted by its

shabby form, taken with the fragrance of its earthy bouquet.

He is drawn to the soothing impression of a small dog curled

between his legs, snuggled faithfully against the aching attitude

of his arthritically-worn knees.

Chris Hanch  1-3-16