i saw the large, fuzzy baby bird,
looking better today.
he was there below the
spot on the fence where i saw him yesterday.
looking fit. i could identify him;
of course he's grey, not an owl.
he's a pigeon, comfortable now
in the garden.
7 may, a robin on the fence
with a mouth full of sticks,
you know what he is doing.
i waited ... then went inside
and looked out the curtain.
robin went above the rose bush,
below the eves, out of sight.
M will say if the spot if good.
right now it doesn't matter...
robin has building on his mind.
a fine quiet early evening, i stepped out on the porch.
sat on the bench ... watched as a wren flew off
a large fuzzy baby bird ... pigeon or what...gray,
stayed on the post on the fence
shaking a small amount, feathers messed in places,
like he fell out of the nest a day early
seemed lost. i watched a while.
went in, rewrote some lines,
took a breath , right there after the comma.
saw the sky almost had a rose color in it, and blue.
then came back out.
jacket weather cool at seven'
glanced quickly and couldn't find the bird. hoped he found
a leafy spot to hide in the garden somewhere.
i didn't look that hard. tomorrow i'll think of him
and watch for him.
beige lake, a graying strait/
white gulls with blue markings zip overhead,
banking, dipping fast like kites on fire/
a hum, hollow sound/
can't say from where.
gold fields, azure sky, woods beyond/
powder white clouds trimmed in gray/
i hear distant trains/
dogs on leashes excite a small boy/
in a child's voice he asks dad ... who knows what/
tops of cars pass beyond far fields/
near flashing ripples sparkle water/
gulls held aloft by the wind/
some tree shade
spring ahead, fall back
who was the knucklehead's wife that came up with that one?
and other countries followed the lead?
can't we leave nature alone?
it's how the planet works ...
can't we live with it?
can a car be in river
water to the windows
and still work?
Before the Internet
you had to write a newspaper
to the column Ask Mechanic Bob,
or some one like that
who might answer your question
and were really five guys
working i an office
sometimes i work harder and sleep longer,
or drink more coffee and think of days
spent far away - other places, other times,
i'll take my pick, depending on the weather,
how the sun is shining, how the wind blows.
now where i'm sitting the sun is in my eyes;
but isn't it grand...because that's the same sun
you're looking at; amazing.
that's how it functions...
world without end.
you know, when i used to make a camp fire
wood would burn down and there'd be no fire.
the sun has been burning since before we were,
so how does it do that and not turn to ashes?
who's adding fuel to the fire?
just read February has been the warmest on record.
they say it will be 65 Fahrenheit today here in Ohio;
meanwhile Trump is complaining about the news media.
i'm glad there is something to read with coffee in the morning.
well, where is the snow?
it's the dead of winter...time for blizzards.
so where did it go?
certainly not as i remember.
kids have to play, you know...days off school.
while old people watch white pouring down,
thick on the ground, all around, packing us in.
this year i never had to look for my boots.
waiting for james.
he stopped by a month ago,
oregon to ohio,
to Boston, to Rome.
back with his brother
52 and 50,
the drummer and the unpredictable,
nicest guys i could know.
known 'em grow.
said he'd be here last week
that was the plan
now short hours away,
ahead of the snow.
he and Alex heading to Portland
while i read...check out the window,
waiting for james
tapped my spoon on the table,
no sugar for me,
ate enough cookies this week.
gazed out the window
saw more parking spaces than usual,
and fewer birds; seems they all
flew home for the holidays..
gazed more... thought
of warm water swimming,
took just one last cookie
such a beautiful Christmas tree
nearly twenty feet tall
in the neighbors front yard,
been watching it for years;
he's not using it anyway.
our ceiling at home reaches seven,
i only need some off the top.
i'll buy neighbor kids beer
have them cut the top at night
and deny involvement
forget the above. I remembered Gregory
Corso's beat generation poem about
learning to drive and
mowing friends down:
humor from another generation.
unkind doesn't work now
when we need to go easy,
we surly do.
we need kindness, even in humor.
october wind and warm/
still, pancakes for breakfast were just right/
wait...there aren't two voices in a poem./
his were different/
and yours is the same?/
well, not the same...You know i made your part up, don't you?
went to Oregon
bought marijuana in a store.
smoked a joint. it took three days.
didn't finish it all.
best i felt in years.
$9, it was fine.
couldn't bring any back to Ohio.
come on, America.
the young can bang heads playing football;
we old want to sit in a chair, relax
and feel good.