Alternate Universe

At the entrance

To my dad’s place

There is a gate

To an alternate universe

No internet

No cell phone

Total disconnection from

The World Wide Web

What you will find

Upon entry is

Lots of family and

Longtime friends

Old fashioned conversation

Love and good intentions

Laughter and fond memories

Of others who’ve passed on

I enjoyed a couple of days

In this refreshing way

When it was time to leave


Plug back in


In the churning machine

That runs the world

Passing back through the gate

I paused for one last glance

At the entrance

To my dad’s place

And thought to myself

There’s no “app” for this

But if there were

It might be called

Pure Bliss

It is a world I will truly miss

As I head back to my real life

And board a flight to Texas

E.A. Fussell


Waiting for a Flight

Flying during major holidays

Is not the wisest choice

Advised my all too familiar

Still small voice

But it’s my dad’s birthday

And my mother’s too

I haven’t been home in months

It seemed like the thing to do

Now flight delays

Causing airport stays

Has me thinking

There has to be a better way

I was supposed to land

In Florida last night

But here I sit in Georgia

Still waiting for a flight

E.A. Fussell


Save Me A Seat

Save me a seat

I’ll be along in a little while

The miles between us are light years

But I can still see your sweet smile

There’s a big table

Y’all are gathered round

The echoes of laughter

Make such a beautiful sound

I see Grandpa and Granny

Uncles, aunts, and a few cousins too

There’s my best friend Sherry

Who parted way too soon

Gosh I sure do miss you

Age is catching up with me

Makes it easier to believe

In a life that follows after

Yes, I can see

Large tables

Where loved ones gather

Y’all save me a seat

I’ll be along in a little while

E.A. Fussell


From The Window Up Above

From the window up above

Are you watching me

As the holidays draw near

Are you missing me

I don’t think so

In heaven there are no tears

But here on earth

My mind fills with memories

Of you cooking for days ahead

Of grandpa smoking meat out back

I think of you both so often and

More during the holidays

You were both so special to me

I love you Granny

E.A. Fussell


Apple Picking

An apple orchard

On a chilly October day

Watching family members

Romp and play

Climbing the mountain

To get a better view

Of the fall leaf colors and

Sparkling rocks strewn

Across the mountain top

Now down to the valley we go

Picking bags in hand

To the apple trees below

Heavy laden

With red delights

We reach

As high as we might

Grab a dark red apple,

Push up and

Twist gently

Wha La!

Fresh deliciousness in hand

Apple picking in New Hampshire



Rollin’ A Smoke

My grandpa rolled his cigarettes. I can still smell the sweetness of the tobacco when he opened the Prince Albert can and gently sprinkled the dark pieces onto the paper. As a child it was mesmerizing to watch the process as his rough hands manipulated the delicate paper.


Removing the Blindfold

Traveling home

For a long

Holiday weekend

I feel like

A caged bird

Set free

Why do I

Let myself

Get sidetracked

And blindfolded

Only seeing

The next task

Letting my strings

Get pulled by clients

Drowning in

Emails, texts, phone calls

Work, work, work

The world drinks

It in

Without question

By now I should have

Learned my lesson

Taking time to unwind

Travel expands my mind

Family, friends

Fill my heart

New surroundings

Generate new ideas

And as a result

Higher efficiency

Better productivity

Increased profit

So why do I

Let myself

Get sidetracked

And blindfolded

Only seeing

The next task

It’s time

Escaping the glass

Going on a work fast

Catching my breath

Removing the blindfold

Traveling home

I feel like

A caged bird

Set free

E.A. Fussell



This old photo of a boy at play reminded me of my son and inspired this poem:

Memories of him

When he was a child

Mimicking his dad, Tim,

Will always make me smile

He’s grown-up now

And I don’t see him as much

But I still smile at how

He loved old trucks

And he used to play

For hours on end

Back in the day

When he loved to pretend

E.A. Fussell