eagle

eagle

an eagle
sees eight times better
than a human, how'd scientists ask him?
they didn't ask. they took a dead eagles eye
ball and held it up and said he could see
about like that.
we saw a big one, could have
photoed him .. my camera was not ready.
it takes time to set it up and it's
handy in my phone. good quality
and since i did no photo, i'll tell you
and you will feel the eagle in your heart
as i did,
as you think it should be because it's
such a large bird, and strong, and the stories
about them, and it's the usa official country bird,
like that; and there it was and it flew
over the car practically. it should be in
your heart now too, practically.





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new fire station

the local fire department is
a couple years and a few million
into plans for a new station ...
it'll be a hundred yards from our house.
the old small station was built in 1912
they can't get new trucks until
they have a station with doors large enough
to get the trucks inside.

chief john is hands on everything
selling details to the city
and will work it to completion.
Brett made some fresh coffee;
john showed me the building plans,
i sipped and asked questions.
firefighters do a most valuable job.

there she is now.
worn rag dress and funky shoes,
bobbling to her car, up and down;
look at her go. like the same
i seen when i was a kid,

only i'm worn now too.
near older'n she is
and i can hardly walk ...
but still go along
better than - Lord help her -
better'n that sack o'bones.

holy smoke, she stays on her feet
like a cork in a puddle
after a sudden hard rain.
i'd wave if she looked my way.
don't want to whistle, might mess her up.



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poetry is pages
in the book of life



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ants

ants in a crack where stones met
on the walk near the door...back
there...i'm pointing
a pile of sand, an enlarging crack

i set my foot ready
to sweep the sand pile
into the growing hole
"what are you doing?"\

her tone stopped me cold
"I was...uh..."
enough said by me, evidently

"they're working there."
i looked again and it seemed so.
ants have things as we do...to do.
let them.



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while i'm sleeping
dreaming hard.
on a quiet night
by the open window,

until dawn
i sleep and talk some
while i dream
and time slips on





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breakfast complications

M opened and closed her hand.
"What's that?" i asked.
she open and closed her hand again.
"What do you want? i repeated.

"Pancake syrup." she replied in
her make-believe monster voice.
i raised my eyes and thought a millisecond
"Put your shoes on, let's go."

for the car she bought Sirius .
select one of 222 channels and you're in business
"Oh, let me choose,"pleaded,
and slowly she nodded.
"How much time to i have?"

"Until we turn off the radio."
Sunday breakfast at Dimitri's
a radio playing in the kitchen
can be heard out front when
customer talk is softer

waiting for our order sitting there,
for ten minutes m read aloud
the names of every tree in Ohio.
after one hundred i fell asleep,
but looked like i was paying attention.

i asked waitress Karin how many regulars
come to this restaurant?
i saw her think a flash and "Many" is what she said.
we settled on a guess number - around 200.

i told her, "Say hi to Meegan" who
just had knee surgery on her ankle, more or less.
"but she doesn't know my name."
"That's okay ... we have nicknames for everybody."
I looked deep into my pancake
and didn't ask her for clarification.

changing the subject i told her i can't read
the dials on the clock, i pointed to the one
on the wall above the cash register.
she said, "other customers say the same"
"Gotcha." M turned to look at the clock.

when leaving the restaurant a truck did an illegal turn,
nearly hit our car and blocked our way.
the driver tried to look both apologetic and friendly..
the look came off as stupid;
i gave the humbled lad the finger in my mind.

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a skill of the elderly -
putting on socks
while sitting on the bed
and not falling to the floor.



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golden gate

when friends came to see san francisco
i'd take 'em to the view no one sees everyday;
and feel proud to point and say ...
there ... that's the golden gate




professional photographer Doug Fairbairn took a wonderful picture from the hill on the Marin County side looking through the waterway and the bridge that is The Golden Gate.

face it

wind blows light steady on
the wall clock says near eleven,
but it's only nine.
the clock stopped some yesterday.

i have a new book to read, a couple...three.
we go to the town old place for breakfast;
not a century old, but what they've got.
the old regulars show up, usually.

no coffee for me this morning.
gary a questionable walks in, walks out.
no old guys at their table,
mr. becker died.

his funeral is this morning.
we live in the building...
his potato-chip factory.
and the clock keeps spinning

eyebrows are so
you can look startled
curious, interested,
or angry

eyelids are for winking
and closing out light
the part of the night
when you're sleeping

crying is for babies
and feeling better, after




.

while watering
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.


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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



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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?


/

it looked like a patch of snow in the field
got closer.  it was the sun reflecting in mud





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first thing in the morning
count your lucky stars;
figure if you awaken
you're riding a 4lucky steak



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lost my pen
checked my pockets
pulled out fuzz
nothing hatched

went to the doctor
that's where I've been
took me a pen,
can write notes again.




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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
eating donuts.



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