now rain

we had winter snow.
i remember.
last week sometime.
seems longer ago than that.

and i was expecting more.
thinking we'd get a pile up.
we were due ... for sure.
well, forget it.

collision

next month, if the asteroid
smashes into earth
all life, will be wiped
clean, clean, far away.
to smithereens.
other than that, there is
no news from the national
aeronautics and space administration.
keeping my poetry in a light
vein, winter has released
it's grip on Ohio.
no sidewalk shoveling,
couldn't ice skate on the lak
or a small pond this year. a hundred tons
of salt not dumped on streets by the highway department will be saved.
winter gone, asteroid maybe;
what does the weather channel
have to say?

third of march

we drove to see our home in
Norwhere. the one
put together from a commercial
building. erected in 1866.
the home we left
to find better times near new friends.
it's a matter of neighbor-hood,
and the new one is grand.

April snowstorm
on the road to Plankton
came down thick, but too warm to stick.
heavy flurries had our attention.
the store half full.
half-covered their faces
In caution of the virus.
eggs 3.19, 
great start on the day.
getting out,
seeing people again.
we'll take highway 58
North to home, now Oberlin.

another holy mackeral

the lake is quiet, it hums.
that's always a good sign.
we drove by Severance Hall Cleveland, Ohio.
a large sign read 51 Fahrenheit,

spring is bursting awake,
make a note: blue jays, robins,
squirrels ... everyone is out.
in Spanish with English subtitles.

heard those words on the radio.
now, tighten up your belt.
keep smiling. there is more to do.
start a shopping list.

winter pause

 look far across the fields and check out
the afternoon sun, will you?

not the bright yellow ball itself
but the shadows soaking in between ... greys

and browns lighter than usual.

warm and inviting, still air,

 a farmer's buggy sorta day.

with the horse acting snappy

 coming up around by Planktown.

i can take a fist full of days like this, can't you?