Pocket change, common cents,
value and worth, present tense.
What you have, or have earned,
all you have spent; lessons learned.
Dollarwise or deficit. Transactional
purchasing power; you bank on it.
In our days of digital, financial sums
now simply numbers on a screen.
Coinage; currency unseen between
sofa cushions, or the bottom of a purse.
In any denomination, money provides
opportunity. It adds up. Spend wisely.
© 2026 j.g. lewis
For months, for what seems like forever, you don’t hear it. Then, suddenly you do.
Birdsong.
Yesterday morning, as I made my way for much-needed coffee, I noticed.
It wasn’t just a few tweets, or honking geese returning home from wherever they were, or the caw of the crows that stuck around all winter, it was full-fledged birdsong.
It was welcome.
It might have been that the Sun is rising earlier now, or that yesterday was mostly sunny and warm (finally); you never know when. Birdsong arrives unexpectedly, it seems, many days before dawn.
It’s a reassuring sound that spring is actually here. Finally. More importantly, it is a sound I will hear more of as the season progresses, and when summer arrives. It’s a sound that says everything is okay, that this planet is not such a bad place (at least locally is it), and you are here.
And now you are hearing nostalgic sounds, heartwarming sounds, sounds fuller than a symphony; sounds that remind you that you’re alive.
Birdsong is random; it comes from all directions. You never seem to see the source, but know it is there. Hearing is believing. It is a morning thing, mostly, or mostly noticeable before the city wakes and the usual noise of the day takes over.
You enjoy it while you can, daily or seasonally, and it is most welcome.
Gratitude is found in birdsong.
© 2026 j.g. lewis
What you see and all you believe, and what you know, are at times unknown.
Confusing, yes, because within our sight so much of what we see is unbelievable, especially now.
How could we ever imagine what is happening on this planet?
History, we thought, hinted at what could happen. Have we ignored lessons of the past or have we been derelict in our understanding, pretending to allow the unknown to become a better part of our reality?
Now, sadly, we know.
Knowing beats unknowing.
To this end, we must ask ourselves (we must know) how far this could go? Certainly, the end is not in sight. It remains unknown.
j.g.l.
We know where we are,
right now.
Now.
You can’t put it off, or
ignore it, it just happens.
Of course, there may be
future opportunities, but
you need to know there is
no better time to begin
that project, pick up where
you once left off, make
that overdue apology, or
believe in yourself.
Now.
Why wait for later, when
you can do it now.
Do it.
© 2019 j.g. lewis
Does it take awhile for sleep to arrive
after you have slipped into your bed?
Do you have many pillows to comfort
your restless head. Do you pull up the
covers to feel warm and safe?
Are you the type of sleeper that remains
in place, or do you shift in the night?
What thoughts do you host, and do they
turn into dreams? Do you recall images?
Are they ever what they seem?
What would I see if I looked well beyond
your eyes? Would the sunset be visible?
Would I be close enough to see a fading
sky, even clouds that form as a day turns
into nightfall? Tell me, what would be in
my sight? Would you softy whisper gentle
words of good night? I’d let your voice
carry me away into the deepest thought;
I have many.
© 2026 j.g. lewis
April is Poetry Month