Excuses

We all have the tendency to edit or make corrections

in our lives from time to time. Perhaps it is a good

thing to occasionally spell-check the words it takes

to communicate. Yet more often than not, we are still

guilty of either gross negligence or stunning stupidity.

I, myself, have woven into and out of perfection my

entire life, never having quite achieved the ultimate

Eden I was seeking. Everyone makes mistakes. It is

one of those human traits to which we feel entitled.

Other creatures are either mowed down, or ground into

the pavement for their negligence or misjudging. As

youngsters, opossums never learn to hold hands or to

look both ways before crossing the road. Even dolphins,

intelligent as they are purported to be, sometimes find

themselves ensnared in the fisherman’s net. Should you

find an error or two in this hastily written opus I herein

submit to you, I would remind you of a renown passage

from the Gospel according to Luke...”Father, forgive them

for they do not know what they are doing.” Or in layman’s

terms using a phrase in a more contemporary vernacular—

Shit man, what in hell did you expect? Exc-u-u-u-use me...

I’m only human, you know!

Chris Hanch 12-30-17

Breaking News

The acorn falls from the tree. The shoelace

suddenly snaps in two. The world today

will never be the same, and ready or not,

the same applies to you. It could be days,

months, even years before you recognize

the change. Someone is knocking at the

door, someone you have never met, bearing

news you have never heard before. Be ready.

Gratitude

For all my friends and family who have passed...

For all the joys and miseries which didn’t last...

For all the tunes I couldn’t carry...

For those played by others which carried me...

For each and every sunrise risen in my life...

For the stars and moon at night...

For the dreams realized...

And hopes which fluttered by...

For the warm wishes as a gift given and gift received...

For faith lost and faith retrieved, over and over again...

For that extra hour each autumn of the year afforded me...

For exhausted by all this gratitude, and especially that

which screws over me physically and mentally, I am

thankful for that added 60-minutes which annually

allows me to get a bit more much needed sleep.

Chris Hanch 12-28-17

Clean Sweep

No matter the time nor the place,

and to hell with histories summarily

whisked away.

Old black-robed women have

duteously swept dust from doorsteps

for hundreds of years.

While history is made with each passing
day, only the present, the dust, and old
black-robed women sweeping remain.

Chris Hanch 12-27-17

Words Applied Today

Sometimes it is a single word which brings a

certain revelation to me as I rise. Sometimes that

word which initially and most frequently comes

to mind happens to be a pronoun. I search for

that word every day. He or she oftentimes comes

into play. Could be, you and I, in close association

with one another, which may exemplify a glorious

sunrise on any given day. Sometimes, speaking to

a unity between you and me, I find personal pronouns

most profound. Imagine you and I as us seeing

eye-to-eye, optimally unified alongside he and she,

all singing together in a chorus of inspired harmony.

If not that, then at least we, respectful of one another,

reaching an agreement to disagree. Oh, wondrous day

when personal pronouns are most fittingly applied.

Chris Hanch 12-26-17

Life, Chapter and Verse

I. This is a long

story with so many

twists and turns.

II. It will make you

laugh, and bring

tears to your eyes.

III. You will become

elated now and again,

and likewise be board

at times.

IV. Part history,

it has a measure

of fiction written

into the mix.

V. Turn the page.

This is a thriller,

and it still has

a way to go.

VI. For you and

so many others,

the ending may

come as a surprise.

Chris Hanch 12-25-17

A Thoughtful Treat on Christmas Eve Day

A snow overnight, for some seen as a delight,

for many others, a frozen plight. In the early

morning, I see two squirrels huddled on the bleak

backyard branches of a tree. Some will celebrate

their savior’s birth today. I shall remain at home

alone with my two small pups whose lone desire

is for the food, warmth and companionship I have

been assigned to provide. For they who otherwise

must survive the bitterness and cold of this day,

I have thrown crusts of bread their way, such a slim

remuneration of gratitude, I’d say, for the security

of my situation to pay. Ah, but a veritable feast this

Christmas Eve, such a treat thrown out onto the

frosted table top of Earth for two squirrels to feed
upon, a small but tasty gift given to but a few cold

and hungry creatures of this world from but one
meager yet thoughtful God of Goodness and Caring
I would be today.

Chris Hanch 12-24-17

The Me I Happen To Be

I was born with these hazel

eyes, born replete with ten

fingers and toes.

I was given a skin which

has changed many times

since then.

(I learned this by watching

a toad struggle to wriggle

out of its.)

Before I became the me I

was this time randomly

configured to be,

I was a cool smooth stone the

young boy picked from the gravel

pit and skipped across the pond.

Chris Hanch 12-23-17

Water I Am

I turn on the faucet and water flows into

the pot. It behaves sometimes; oftentimes

not. The rain falls freely without regard

for that which it washes away. To oceans,

to the lowlands and rivers, water finds its way.

It seeks its own level, rises to flood and inundates.

It hydrates, the water of which we are mostly

made. It is then of no surprise that in our lives

we continue to move from place to place. And

as pools, puddles and lakes dotting the land,

rising as humidity, each and every drop of our

being evaporates eventually. Is it any wonder

then we look up to the clouds naming shapes

in wonder and amazement? I, myself, feel a

kinship to snowfall in Greenland as lost memories

of millenniums past layer deeply in glaciers which

move incrementally, inch by inch across the

frozen land. And transformed, here I am

again, melted, flowing freely and fluidly from

the faucet into the pot. h2o...water I am, mostly.

Chris Hanch 12-22-17

Keeping the Faith

Take heart, my friends—

through all this

embittered unrest

and foggy ceiling

settled into the paddock

but a few yards away,

a gray silhouette

stands stalwart

and unflinching before us…

the Horse of Our

Hopeful Desiring

continues to graze.

Chris Hanch  12-21-17

Calamity

Face it, our lives, indeed all life on this planet in which

we live has been based on far more failures than successes.

Mass extinctions and global catastrophes have prevailed

throughout Earth’s sordid history. Could be possibly that we

have evolved to this elevated state of our very existence

mistakenly. Take Trump as a prime example of which I speak..

the destructive calamity of this perverse reality continues to

plague and threaten our humanity. You were too young to recall

when the Chicxulub Asteroid hit the Yucatán, weren’t you?

The poor dinosaurs never saw it coming.

Chris Hanch 12-20-17

That Which Remains

The old man rises

yet another day,

and reaches for the

reinforcement of his cane

as youth turns away

and fades father behind him.

He moves forward

slowly with measured

deliberation today, counting

down in whispered groans

every fleeting moment,

every painful step he takes. 

Chris Hanch  12-19-17

Remember the Day?

Remember the day you first left home

and knew that you would never return?

I thought of my small dog today. Does she

remember her mother? Does she live her

life mourning the loss? She wags her tail

each time I pass, but she knows that I am

but a substitute for the caring her mother

gave. I do my best to provide her with

all the things I perceive a dog needs. I

feed her timely each day. I take her for

walks, and toss her favorite toy across

the room so that she can play fetch. It

seems to me that for the most part she

is pleased. I surrender my lap to her as a

safe and comforting place in which to nestle

and rest. This is a symbiotic relationship we

share. Our mothers are gone and this is the

best of what we have left. Remember that

day you left home knowing that you would

never return? As the next best thing, I am

ever grateful that you chose to bond with me.

What’s more, you couldn’t care less that I have

taken off my shoes and socks, leaving them in a

cluttered heap on the floor.

Chris Hanch 12-18-17

Promises

Ever go to bed at night and pray that

tomorrow will be a better day? You

swear and promise that you will then

begin anew. This is typically a human

nature thing to do. Dreams, for the most

part, are lost anyway the moment you

wake. You open your eyes and rise. And

when your feet hit the floor, you realize

that dreams are easily forgotten or

negotiated away. And promises, although

well-intended, are not that hard to break,

especially when exposed to the light of

a new day.

Chris Hanch 12-17-17

Sometimes, a Wondering

A fisherman in Sumatra asks a question, and

half a world away someone is allowed to live

yet another day. The cattle drive of a Massai

tribesman in Kenya never enters the mind as

we prepare for work in the morning. A crop

of winter wheat is on the verge of breaking

the surface on a farm 30-miles south of Salina.

We go through our entire lives befuddled by

so much intrigue and mystery, the unanswerable,

the unseen. And we are told to keep the faith, to

fall on our knees and pray. Still the thought arrives

at bedtime, was this some cosmic experiment

gone awry, or nothing but one huge cataclysmic

mistake? Then again, it could be such a simple

thing—all our misgivings clinging to the wingtips

of migrating Canada Geese. Perhaps there is this

revelation of an enigma lying deep beneath the

Aegean Sea, some monolithic answering of our

questioning: Why me? Why the stars at night?

Fear not, dear friend, you are not alone. Wracking

the mind of Neanderthal in his time, yes, even he

must have been numb-struck with wonderings

such as these.

Chris Hanch 12-16-17

Playing by the Rules

The next time life comes around,

I propose a rule change taken from

the NFL. Wouldn’t it be a positive

move, an amelioration, let’s say,

if everyone was allowed a two

minute warning, one at the half

time of life and another as the

clock winds down approaching

the end of the game? Think of it,

my friends, a brief time-out to

strategize a final move to advance

or improve your personal situation.

What a difference this innovation

could make. You as coach could

assess your position on the field

of play, electing to punt, pass or

kick. If in the lead, you may even

choose to take a knee and let the

time elapse. Or, if not, perhaps a

Hail Mary pass would be an option.

You needn’t be a religious type to go

for broke, you know. But having a

star-quarterback mindset along with

a hell of a throwing arm surely helps.

Three...two...one…Oh, what the hell!

All your fans say, at least you tried;

you gave it your best shot. Besides,

this was your last season anyway.

Chris Hanch 12-15-17

An Alliance Today

There are problems to be resolved today.

My window is stuck midway in its track.

I gave up car ownership months ago in

the hopes of relieving the unevenness of

flat tires. However, nothing prevents those

non-starter days which begin before dawn

in the driveway of life. No longer have I

income tax due, no more the requirement

or need to be seated at my desk at 8 AM.

Nowadays, I have but my own body and

its malfunctioning old age with which

to contend. Oh yes, there will always be

blizzards sweeping down on me form the

embittered North, and those flash floods

of discontent rising in my mind. I have in

part become my own worst enemy, you

see, a debilitating condition for which I

find neither cure nor reprieve. It seems to

me the only logical alliance to be made—

I shall treat myself well today—Let’s you

and I agree to disagree come hell or high

water, come dog shit on our slippers, come

rain or shine, no matter sugar plumb fairies

or turpentine, just you and me, what do you

say...BFF, come what may? Let’s seal this

deal over a bowl of ice cream. I only have

chocolate chip available; I trust that will

be okay?

Chris Hanch 12-14-17

A Cool Autumn Day

A cool autumn day,

hundreds of blackbirds

gather as leaves

from every branch

of a sycamore tree,

singing all a discordant

bird call symphony,

and in turn some gather,

some fly away.

Then, if by command,

not one chirp, screech

or peep to be heard,

as off into the cool

autumn day, a swift

winged formation—

the sudden silent cloud

of blackness flies away.

Chris Hanch 12-13-17

The Search for Meaning

Witness 500-years passing beneath the feet of the

Zunis’ dancing. It is a wonder indeed that we have

lived so long in the midst of our grieving. The

sycamore stands stripped of all its leaves, yet black

birds call from the branches for its revival come the

spring. Today someone will compose a letter of

apology which will never reach its destination.

The rib cage of an unknown beast lies in the grass

stripped of every ounce of flesh. Be mindful, my

friends, there is a lesson to be learned at every turn.

Believer or not, a brightly packaged revelation waits

for each of us under the Yuletide Tree of Discovery.

Since time immemorial, out of curiosity, every living

creature has turned its head when their name is called,

either approaching cautiously or beating a hasty retreat

from the unresolved Mystery.

Chris Hanch 12-11-17  

Dust, Never a Need for History

The last time I saw you, you had youth on your side.

Thirty-five years have passed since then. I am still

here, but now in my place of old age, and my how

things have changed. I do occasionally wonder what

has become of you? Time has a way of trailing behind

it a history, even if not considered important enough to

record. Ever wonder who decides these things anyway,

young and vibrantly alive one day, and gone the next?

Dust, however, remains perpetually the same. Perhaps

that is why dust appears frequently in the bible and in

poetry. Dust has no need for either history, a date or a

name; forever dust remains the same. There, I have said

it. And now on the record, I am done.

Chris Hanch 12-10-17

Lessons Learned

I suppose it is important to remember

those things we learned as children.

I have long since forgotten the name of

my teacher who taught me the tables

of multiplication. I must say that 2×4 did

advance me so far. And, admitting I was

wrong may have pleased God who then

allowed me to go on my way. Sin no more,

I tried to obey, but failed to comply with

regular consistency. Looking both ways

before crossing the street proved time and

again to be sound advice. I managed to

survive some would-be tragedies in my

seventy-some years traversing time and

space here on Earth. However, I’d have to

say that sheer luck often came into play,

allowing me to advance in one piece to the

present day. Oh, and then there was that

all-important lesson my father impressed

upon me early on in my formidable years:

“When you’re done with it, put my hammer

back in the toolbox where you found it.” By

the scowl on his face and the tone of his voice,

there was no mistaking, Dad meant business.

I feared he would have surely ended life as I

knew it right then and there had I not obeyed.

I learned, having felt the wrath and stinging
pain of his spankings before.

Chris Hanch 12-9-17

Consideration Today

Gave some thought

To death and dying,

Considered going

Back to bed.

Decided to access

You Tube

On the Internet

This morning.

Resurrected

Freddie Mercury

Instead...

Don’t Stop Me Now!

Chris Hanch 12-7-17

A Certain Time and Place

A Certain Time and Place

Sweet and desirous love-making between
the sheets at midday…

A deeply drawn cigarette and a tasty snack

to follow, without a crumb left on my plate…

I could have died a satisfied man

right there and then, a smile on my face…

But no...I chose to get up, put on my shoes,
blow out the candle, and walk away.

Chris Hanch 12-5-17

Gray Days

Could be this is the final season of frosty air and

falling leaves. Restlessness stirs eerily in the bones.

Gray somber skies were designed to define days

such as these. The squirrel proceeds as if this saga of

brittle gray will continue day after day. Squirrel knows

that bitterness and cold are growing. Enough nuts

have been stored to feed itself one more day.

At this rate, in all likelihood, today may well be the

last. Yet, squirrel continues his determined leaps

from tree to barren tree high above the frozen earth.

We humans are prone to rely upon diligent planning

and modest measures of faith. There are no guarantees,

my friends. Tomorrow, we pray, will surely follow

today—knowing full well, sometimes thin branches

of our perceived realities have a tendency to break.

Chris Hanch 12-4-17