Morning heat

• couldn't find her,

the plumber is on his way.
she's far out mowing,
now wearing a cooling rag on her head;
it's a new invention.

i pushed the mower so she could hear that it is so quiet. she worried about disturbing beighbors. they never think that way.
out and back for me.
that's my time limit. although,
i like even a 90 degree humid day;
heat beats winter freeze.


.

Where on ya

 near the lake now.
  few blocks away.
pulled into an old shopping lot,
 giant stores run down, closed.
   my goodness. acres of space,
room for a thousand cars.
a few cars are parked,
maybe twenty if you count them all.
  nothing happening now.
the virus makes life slow.
 we could get some ice cream
on the way home. forget it.

Wednesday

these stacks of days
are weeks and we are in the
middle of another one.

we've seen a few whiz by.
 nailed to the floor, held heaven high.
talked out, photographed, forgotten.

a smile goes a long way
to keep days precious.
of them, we'll recall what we can.

ringo

Ringo, Ringo is eighty
happy birthday drummer
we remember you as it happened.
the Beatles explosion,
hah, from New York the Ed Sullivan TV show.
how wound up we all were.

then there they were.
"She loves you."
here back in 20 20, the year we are
in up to our necks and tired
of trump and want less of him
and his family.
clean the way please.
dump the viri while you're at it.
 okay, viruses is the correct word.
not as attractive, like nothing about it.
we have to clear the counter of all
unappealing clutter.
simple again is where to get to,
where we want to go.
we want less to worry about.
better conditions
let the old tunes play
with nothing in the way
for enjoyment, we all. for us. need some.
 heaven help us, why not. and for our friends.
and strangers, they want it too, goodness.
we'll be better. we will do better.
Ringo is eighty today. he's good,
so for him and us.
yeah, yeah yeah.

seasonal heat

well, if it were a winter storm

i'd stay indoors until it passed.

yes, now comes heat again.

heavy this time. 93 and humid,

that is the difference. this temperature is nothing

out west where humidity is low.

at least we have thick walls

and air cooling. so all is well.

the projection is nothing too much.

here out the window, she is cleaning weeds,

a few, and i asked of the small white bulbs.

she said they are wild onions or garlic

and i can eat them. one will kill me

the other won't. when we were kids

we ate a bite of a lot of plants.

not knowing which are deadly.

we heard about the deadly plants

but never had a bite of one, evidently.

warm days

 creating warm days
seems to be what's up.
tied in a row.  day after another.

although here is an idea not happening now,
i can picture riding in the country,
far out. pretty, and peaceful.