pasqua 2021

pasqua is easter ...

 weightlessness in long term

space. you hit the ball, round first

base. good thing we're here on planet

blue, running, hitting like we 

do. yes, the season has just 

begun. so far few players have hit a home 

run. wait until Monday, see how they've 

done.

strike, ball, double, take off, watch the ump.

mark down Easter, figure if we will spend summer

watching baseball .. or have we had enough.

watching guys who make 200 million a year

 

and we have to pay a hundred a season 

just to see them on TV. 

They should pay fans a hundred a month 

to watch them on TV.

ocean

 i can smell the ocean from my chair.

looking up it isn't there.

a peach ripens on the window sill

the clocks approaching quarter 'til

and as i pull the bag from my cup of tea

my mind takes me places i'd like to be.

here, magazines picture my vacation

while outside, birds make their migration.

the mast will creak as my chair rocks.

i stir my tea as my ship docks,

with quill in hand and love sublime

i'll send this message from out of time

corked and floating on ocean's crest

the letter drifts to islands west

at night, moonlight flashes the bottle glass,

by day, the jumping, curious dolphin pass

by sooner or later and seagulls,

by lesser and greater in wind lulls,

by storms and seasons

beyond all reasons

i put my feet up and think of beach,

sip my tea, and eat my peach

April one-ish

don't open your eyes, you won't believe this ... sleep more before you go ahead.

Wake to snow Covering all ... won't last, melting fast. Winter's gone but  yeah bah. What an April morning to take in.

want some eggs an bacon?

you're dreaming.

Meanwhile there is poetry, back in fashion ... scattered around  pick that one off the ground, clown. It's yours.

claim it. sticks a medal on you for showing up today ... hold still, Willy. Will yah.

okay eight-thirty now and the street looks slushy. 

nothing new falling. it's on the way to total meltdown.

2021 stretches

 

Sharon Stone doing a cowboy film.

she certainly did 26 years ago.

am i poeming yet

this middle of the week?

trash goes out every Wednesday.

stack up those weekly obligations.

while Catherine flies in

Califonia to Detroit.

she'll see her friend then drive here

where robins are out hoping, pecking

as today the year's third month ends.

worn out. mark it down.

a quarter of the year has burned.

not only quickly it went quietly.

entirely wrapped up.

as you, i'm happy to have seen it.

Spring for sure

Flying today is my daughter

from California. where it's hotter

well, it's not the season for heat

yet it's warm enough.

 

neat she's  coming here  

wing in dear.

And good for us. Joy.  Joy again.

This doesn't happen everyday.

 

we'll all enjoy the visit.

like sprinkling seeds of happiness.

well i guess i'll miss her toby and daughter.

so i guess we'll fly hr way next. 

Doctor me

 

here and also another ... there.

load me with appointments.

two today ... say, hey.  Plenty

of attention. where i'm scheduled up.

more than enough for me.

my calendar is usually clean.

can i quit yet?

i'm only thinking about it. 

cold light spring rain

morning cold spring rain.

enough so neighbor  runners

packed in suits head to toe

jackets with the hoods-up go, 

decked in outfits like firefighters 

on the back of a bells-clanging

fire truck running with siren blaring

down city streets. out of the way, 

 

tearing quick, make way.

on this  cold rainy day.

very brisk starting.

out of the way.