poetry - jack sender - all of my life
a blue jay and a male (red headed) woodpecker
tree hopped outside our window this cold morning,
20 March, with frost on the ground.
reading this on another date you'll have to imagine
the coldness. the stillness. the internal anticipation
of the sweet beginning happening now.
all around, anywhere we look.
talk to anyone and behind the day's greeting
is the hopeful sweetness, the advent of tomorrow's glorious season
no one can stop or keep away.
Spring.
The day is a absolutely like a spring one;
which began midnight today March the 21st.
Clear, light blue sky this morning and fields hold
a light tan cast more or less, as far as I can see.
we need sunny days to get the green growing.
plus some heat, of course.
and naturally it will ... happen i mean.
slowly, swiftly through every lawn and field ...
green'll cover everything as far as we can see.
there will be birds and people walking their dogs
with their plastic bags.
***
the evening news on Cleveland TV said the space station
is coming over at 8:39 tonight, from a west south-westerly direction.
also i heard something "about fifteen degrees." i missed that.
later it was time, Meri said come on, and we went outside.
in this new home we don't know the directions well,
only East for the rising sun and West where it sets.
she wanted to drive to Delaware somewhere where there is open space.
at home we have trees all around and only a few minutes to get ready.
we stood in our driveway, in about a minute and she starts,
"there it is ... i see it there." i looked and there it was,
just-about overhead. we expected a dot and it's large as captain Kirk's Enterprise. and lit up.
for seven minutes we watched the space station pass over from the middle of our driveway.
didn't happen, yet, it's gonna.
wind that clock, storm's on the way.
i put on shoes instead of slippers.
serious water coming down, down.
we'll soon see how much
atmospheric anomalies
are shaking our days.
at the very least: dress for it.
