Winter and Aging

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091220 (for Zach)

SNOW NAKED

Trees—
the elder
and the younger—
withdraw their energies
from these winter
silences and
furies.


091219

SURPRISE

Buzzard babies—
such a sight!
Who’d have thought
they fluff out white?


091218

IMMINENT DOMAIN

My chores were done,
and more to spare.

I headed for my easy chair.
Alas—the cat was sitting there!

“Forgive my breach of happy purrs,”
I told him, “but it’s time to stir.
So take my lap or I’ll take yours.”


091217

MUSE TO POET:

Yay! Hurray!
Oh, frabjous day!

You wanted a poem
joyful and snappy—
so, now are you happy?


BEYOND

After aftermath;
some nice surprise.

After all,
even winter dies.


091216

REMARKING TIME

For the unemployed,
meanings get reassigned:

- holiday/workday
- time on/time off

Vices become versas.


091215

NON SOM

Call it the “night bubble”—
that wide-awake, fret-tending time
between episodes of
sleep-it-under-the-rug.

Mind is a fitful child.
Might as well rise
and take care of it;
might as well walk the floors.


091214

AS LONG AS IT TAKES

Give me a word;
I'll give you a rhyme.

I'll give you a poem
if you have the time.


TOUCH OF THE DIVINE

Thank you, thank you,
powers that be,
for this human-inborn ability
to apprehend divinity!


091213

FUNNING ON EMPTY

"I'm in a bind," the poet whined.
"On my quota, I'm behind.
If there's a poem in my mind,
it's a poem I can't find."


091212

NOT OLD ENOUGH

I was born three-score
years ago, plus one.
And so, for Social Security
I'm too young.

For Medicare too; too young.
I'm sixty-one and I don't care.
I'm sixty-one; still young!


091211

DOWNSIZING

Goodbye,
right eye;
goodbye, left.

Farewell,
today's tooth;
tomorrow's.

Bone, muscle, skin—
your services;
suspend.

Goodbye,
dear body;
farewell, friend.


091210

WANDERERS, SQUANDERERS

Wasting, wasted, living lost lives
(barren, enervated, unenhanced),
we sleepwalk through paradise
oblivious, numb, self-entranced.


091209

GIFTED

Angelic?
Devilish?

Madness?
Sanity?

Gift of divinity:
our humanity.


091208

SHHHH

noise
annoys


091207

NOCTILUCID (For Rick)

Weatherman, we love you dearly.
You scan the skies day-month-yearly.

You’re a wizard.
You’re a wit:

"Behold that cloud, night-lit!
It’s more than cirrus merely;
it's noctilucent, clearly."


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