grandmother and her sisters

four girls in light summer dresses,
side by side for a photo.
looking through the
bright desert sun, not knowing
what the passing years would become.
their faces are of the family
more than eighty years after the
day of their photo in Globe, Arizona.
married to one of the granddaughters
the family resemblance reflects
in all her worth.

another week of rain water

the trouble with a forecast
you can look ahead and see the deluge,
not today, but believe
it will be soon enough. now
another rain day complete.

inside looking out. 

be sure and dress for it

if you're going about.
simply water everywhere.

 heard it half the night.

gallons. more than seemed reasonable.
splashes, patter. dripping.

 splatter. drops.

you want an umbrella? 

look, there are doves out there.

i guess they can stand the rain.

and they're hungry.

breakfast club

before nine A.M. feeders:

blue jay, chipmunk, cardinal, two squirrels;

lined up, were busily hoppin' about.

then heard the Blam as a sparrow hit the kitchen window.

laid on its side for several minutes,

then slowly rolled on the ground to an upright position.

didn't move for a while.

thirty minutes later it stood up,

began walking around, seeking, nibbling.

then perched in a bush. looked around. not ready to fly.

other morning nibblers are out.

two squirrels. big robin came to the regular spot.

two goldfinches at the feeder.

a male cardinal pecked on the ground.

collision sparrow flew away.

sun poking through the cloud cover.

shall warm the day by afternoon.

rain returns tonight

another crunch

so days roll, i note
nothing going on, poor news.
as spring begins, i'm ready
for flowers, for showers.
it's good as can be.
well could be warmer, that will happen.
so will beauty and color.
i think it will seem great out
when the temperature is warmer.
that is all we need. the rest will
fall into place. the virus will quit
and Trump will go away.
then even pizza will taste better

ducks

ducks can hang around somewhat,
but not with humans.
don't bother trying to get close,
they can't take it.
a few hundred yards away is as
close as they can stand to be.

only once in a while
they'd land in my little pond by accident.
it's only fifteen feet in diameter.
must have wanted to check it out
or had to get their feet wet.

if i was there i'd keep still.
if i did more than look their way
they'd take off in a hurry.
imagine how much power it would
take for you to go from floating on water,
leap up and begin to fly.

hello ducks, nice surprise,
good to see you.
goodbye ducks.

when we went to shiloh

used to go to Shiloh regular.
to the good breakfast spot
right there on the main street,
the one that ran down the middle.

the breakfast spot did well
now i'll tell you 
the restaurant did right for everyone;
 until it sold and never opened it's doors again.

whew, that shook our boots. hardly
a warning. yes, we heard talk but,
 didn't want to believe it.  took
a while until we forgot about it.

the Amish poet. we met him there.
gave him a ride to the auction site.
stopped at Plank town.
discovered it then.

the old was finished, never
opened again. that's when Planktown
began for us. a spot on the
road. with parking for buggys.

the way

on the way

on a sweet day of spring,

ready to put this one to use.

with donned hats and jackets

wheeled South for Plank town.

 

ride on.

chickens out peckin'

seen us whiz by in a flash.

spring starter plants are waiting.

i'm thinking of the five deer

in our yard a month ago and wondering

what are we going to do besides wait

for their return ... they eat what grows.

i know i like Swiss chard and they do too.

chilly and quiet today.

blue sky showin' through

puffy gray clouds blowin'

sail on all ...

ok for now
holy cow

Passenger me

i'm talking,
so you know;
case you forgot.
starting here ... this point.

bumped into the wall.
this is serious,
in the middle of the night
 when I got up.
didn't hurt myself.
It's dark ... was humming.
walked around a few minutes
couldn't see ... It was black.
3 o'clock, too early to stay up.
went back to bed.
slept and all went well in
dreams i don't remember.

this morning she wanted mulch from
an hour east, Medina.
Still driving get a phone call from Missouri.
no, I didn't answer.
 i've done that.
always a recorded response.
no one ever talks to me
i've given up.
maybe It's better that way.
another unknown call an hour later - declined

Sunny and 55;
what a nice day.

days move along

snow on the ground will melt today.
all away.
we've seen the last coming down.
nothing more have i to say, about snow.
gone, you know ...
for this year.
getting ready now for pizza,
and warm afternoons.
want to pass through the virus phase,
come out the other side.
see friends face to face.
the regular old human race.
go out for breakfast.
take our time rolling through the back-country.
watching the sun-shine,
and the corn grow.

get to planktown

where are those ideas so grand?
how did they slip through the overnight.
perhaps when i awoke i looked away,
skipped around, had coffee too soon.

next time i'll shower, dress and get rolling.

head South. get moving.
very light traffic.
a poem idea inside of me is ready to emerge.


the secret to writing well:
review it all, a piece at a time.
every morsel.
 stack the good stuff over on one side.

put it together.
 look at the sky now.
clouds are heavy if you try to lift them with water in.

kettle shaking

 tea water is boiling.
settle kettle, you're jumping.
i turned water to off and it did.

this is not makebelieve.
what a difference.
the world is changing in some ways.

some things remain
the same.
how do you like your tea?

woodland color chart

in my chair near the window
book open, looking out
to see all sunny and quiet.
no wind. got the picture?

in a patch of sun stands a robin.
white, orange, brown, black, a variety of color,
and my head had it robins were dull.
not at all.they're filled with solid color and particularly gay.

not back-grounders for any picture, not at all.
you take all the birds and put them in
with the woods setting and
they fit in just fine.

alert continues

this morning content i note
the threatening storm of last night didn't get here;
yet again strong wind and rain is predicted.
maybe this time it'll reach us.
the forecast says confusion will reign.
 
apparently,  the squirrel somehow
dodges soaking droplets.
quick and oily i imagine.
the rapid hopping got my attention.

robins about

this is about robin stuff.

with three recently seen from

our window; listen while i tell you.

the robin, they are tough, run well.

pull worms out of the ground,

meri said that about pulling worms out

and something else,

but she's from California,

how does she even know?

i'm from Ohio and never heard

about robins pulling worms

from the ground. i can swear

it never came up in casual conversation.

of bird talk, i have seen them run and

they do good at that ... all around the

yard if they have to. amazing.
yes, the robin as a group, is well run.

running cold

woke to snow on the roof.
thought the last went by already.
 April heralds spring, you know.
a season slow to open so far.
it will get here.
i'll bet on it.
Ole'  ole'
want to make a taco while we wait?

shopping south

April snowstorm on the road, thirty minutes
from here to Planktown, the Mennonite
country store. went through heavy snow
all the way down,
thank goodness it was too warm to stick.
although the heavy flurries had our attention.

when we got to the store business was quiet.
m said less than half the people
inside covered their faces in caution of the virus.
that's disturbing.
and she sadly reported eggs were 3.19 a dozen, before
they were 1.79.

for both of us the trip seemed a
fine start on the day, seeing people out again.
we came back on highway 58 north.
thinking back, i didn't see any horses or wagons
tied up outside the country store.
it hailed when we got to Oberlin.

a day in Ohio is wet you see

last night i thought i was sleeping
because i went to bed
with that intention.
always happens.
part of the evening.
disconnected thoughts of isolated phrases passed by to fill my dream
splashing beneficial foundation stones
creating warmth for giving fire
to words of love and pie,
always warm pie can thrill,
kept warm with music.
harmony of togetherness,
a soft breeze; i didn't tap my foot.
then from Google, news of Italy, south by Naples
economically collapsing.
hard times, no assistance,
where to turn for
meals on the table.
there the rains of spring can be dismal.
my words won't end tears of hunger during this emergency.
these words hang in the air:
desperate, hungry and scared

Overboard moon

not hard to imagine ...
  the largest, wildest moon of
the year; rolling up in a splashy color,
one you can visualize in your dream.

spring flowers

in light spring showers.

small yellow buds

unfold into flowers

for you, Hon.                    (as in honey)

now the decorator's fun begins;

 to arrange the flowers

in a water-filled vase 

placed where the sun hits the table.

tighten up some

 glide when you can.
you're on a solid, smooth foundation.
the sun will guide you.
 toast and coffee breakfast;
how lucky i am she can make bread.
i know one time i had really good tea somewhere.
special tea, i 'm not sure where.
it could have been in Morocco.
that was an extraordinary location ... overflowing
with exotic flavors and a late afternoon nearly violet sky.
now i'll see what develops here
under our current altered conditions.

I've got a pad so i'll make a note

should've written Sal  as a name for the mule.
seems a popular name, and now
two hundred years later, well beyond the song workmen sang walking a boat
alongside the Erie Canal
why not again. yeah, why not again.
have an imaginary boat on the canal again.
and why not, Ohio is where this is,
And Spring has just opened up.
the ducks are loose.
other critters are out running. There goes a robin.
we're all glad about the
weather ... as fine as can be.

 the river is wide and wild,
moving with power.
independent as the weather
expect the season to hold on the good side for a while.
blue sky scattered light clouds.
We could camp along the river again.
regarding another matter, I figure
roasted corn on the cob is several months away;
no need to hurry anything,

this is to be a spell of joyful time.
 so then, work well.
wash your shirts and hang them outside on a line to dry.
they'll flap and snap in the breeze.
and you take a day at a time
 know they're like no other


these days are the absolute best as can be made.

heartfelt

I appear before you
As the author of last years moving
You gonna na eat that cookie. 

my wife told me

to write something heartfelt.

here it is.

here is something heartfelt.

looking out the window i see

squirrels picking up nuts.

every day they do this,

keep going.

looking, finding, picking, stuffing

it in their mouth and chewing.

no partners, no pals, no police ... looking,

finding, chewing.

Katie, in the key of life, please.

Why it's the squirrel's life for me.

no TV, no shopping,

no gas, no toilet paper,

and, uh ...

sleeping in a tree ...

it's the squirrels life for me.

Stay alert

you stay fine

keep inline.

be mindful and be safe.
situations can become problematic. 
along the path you may encounter
upstream bottlenecks that need to be addressed.

evaluate to see if you need assistance
and should join asylum seekers.

walk tall.

,,how baking ought to

a space special, clean and neat;
 put away this and that where each belong.
an old stiff, red tablecloth her mother used.
the kitchen well organized.

now what we plan you
can bake these at home.
where kitchen supplies are handy.
and the recipe.
you need the accoutrements,
spoons, bowls ... of course, sugar

a sunny window is good
plus the cooker who bakes.
being cookies are done that way.

she can do baking just fine. add the ingredients,
stir and roll them out.
put them on the pan, pop them in the hot oven.
i don't have to tell everything.

Look at the new of you reading here. Welcome. Now I'll continue.

new sunday

America and the rest of the world
- i have to include it all -
begin a calender new, or program,
new way to go, how it is used,
formed, composed,
unlike before we should
recognize the change.
have a parade in inaugural.
we'll prepare for next time.
i can see large helium-filled balloons.

already, setting the day aside this way
turns us to celebration.
hooray. we're doing well.
this is still a Sunday, so far,
so that is good, we recognize the day.

how we fill the day is up to us.
special food would be good.
a particular cake, pie, sandwich.
candles, colors, animals, decorations.
or we could begin slowly
and see what develops.

fear a while

looking out all the time
go ahead now
left and right
on guard. not a dog's worth. a little.

keep ahead of developments
  away from dread ..
don't worry, not this hour
sliding okay,  with the power.

not in my head now ...
entirely fine ... just got out of bed.
how about the usual time?

i heard you said, fine.
we're caught in a sticky situation.
loook away, the rain is coming down
Pound ding, one word.

don't breathe on anyone
Or conversely, don't let them on you
until all is settled.

the good time of year is ever green

you know ...
it is difficult to say the words
to warm someone's heart
when attention is on a virus
circling the globe.
how about this ...
 winter has passed so
think spring thoughts
instead of dumping us
and leaving part of our joy
abandoned on the roadside.
bring us into sunshine.
it will occur
sometime later
now we must endure.

young rider

when we were kids i would hear her

she'd ride her horse to town

and once Penny asked if i wanted

to ride double

after a brief walk and a hop, i fell off

that's how my first horseback ride ended

though the library lot now

has large trees around, is paved

and usually half-filled with cars

from miles away i see it as the

grass field where we played baseball

and Penny took me for my

first horseback ride

ghost rider

bent out of shape.
that's what happened.
came out of the dark.
snuck up from behind.

light fog and rain.
good morning, Monday.
cold but looking out the window
you're not bad. we can take you.

home robins

early march
every day on a tree stump,
one fat robin sat alone
 in front of our kitchen window
now a smaller robin is here.
they're friends
and not alone.

will the new little one
take big robin off
to build a nest somewhere we don't know
and won't see?
i hope the family nest
is nearby so we see it all.
i know the robins build
in the same place for years.

cool some

not really cold,
it's nearly wonderful.
in fact yesterday morning
we worked outside;

then in the afternoon,
after a bowl of rice from Kim's,
we did more clean-up work outside.
well, yeah, i played a while on the piano,

made plans and thought some.
i could've worked more i suppose
but i wrote a few lines,
see how that goes, look for an idea,

then get back to reading
 or trying to think;
one good starting point for tomorrow.
it'll be colder then again, they say.

hey, there's a guy
or gal walkingover
in a hazmat suit.
act normal.

saturday afternoon at the mall

drove to the
parking area
in front of the Walmart
in Elyria. watched
twenty, large
black and white geese
walk on the lawn.
while meri looked
for a wheelbarrow
on her phone.

on the same page

hide under a cover
panic buying's around.
can you hover over me?
stores are empty, lover,

or jammed. look beyond the clover.
a virus caused the problem.
and that's not clever.
we're on the same page

again. i didn't turnip.
 got my foot caught in the spokes.
and don't like that same page stuff.
however, on my opening blog page

i did write "all of my life."
to sound like what it is.
then turnip occurred to me.
seemed appropriate at the time.

i should calm down.
scratch it out.
forget i wrote it.
need to return to feeling ... yeah.

count me in

1.97 for a gallon of gas.
sunny Monday.
had a donut.
that's the day.

here it is, going on.
shake the slips of paper
out of my pocket. old notes.
wonder why i carry them.

drove down a slow main street
passed Johnny's.
they're only serving takeout.
you can't sit in there and eat.
maybe tomorrow we'll try,
or in a few days
or in a month,
or in many months when i'm beaten down by this chaos.
what is happening here?
a killer disease is upon us.
where did it come from?
how about a solution.
can't we return to complacency?
give me slow motion.
a smile
a hug
and a coffee.

pandemic

global concern for
whatever we have going.
doctors may define our situation.

while we can do as always,
drive-by country fields,
look out the window and wonder
what everyone else is wondering.

it doesn't get much better than that.
oh, it could be warmer,
and places that sell ice cream cones
could be open, that'd be good.

mulch is

mulch is old dead leaves.
get ready. it's happening.
sure it's cold,
not terrible ... enough.
dry and quiet.

i'm moving slowly
 trying to figure what i'm doing today.
waiting a break toward spring,
make it more comfortable to be out.

see how the birds and squirrels feel
abou having people in their territory,
we're going to share with them;
they don't know it, though they
might have an idea,
 having seen us watching out the windows.

i'll cry for you ...
you won't turn me away.
you won't turn me away.

my cat is on the skids

my cat is on the skids

that's where he lives

lying in the sun's rays

he sleeps his days away

he's easy, won't hurt a fly

doesn't care, really

doesn't have the time

Gandalf must be the oldest cat in the world

but i'm sure he likes it that way

when my car pulls in

he runs home

that's the only time he runs

and when he's sure i'm holding the door for him

he slows down to a walk

i'll look at him

but hardly in the eye.

we know how to get along;

i feed him, and he comes around for it.

grey day

have you noticed the space
between the grey, cloudy,
dark, dismal and
 slowly starting days?
 
think about it while i align poetic words
including frogs, bogs, deer, beer and summertime,
that last a special season. ours, mine.
 making a poem for an empty street.
you can hear heels moving slowly, tapping ... the echo.

now let's play slow music and dance, shall we?
all of us, lining the walls,
shoulder to shoulder.
come on, get up, arm in arm. 
with hardly a sound
let's march.
put aside thoughts of the dread from this virus.

you know it seems like yesterday,
remember,  when we put on records
and played our favorite tunes.
 today we are waiting
for better news.

day's news

first thing i wake for coffee
and the daily news dose.
a gulp of what's crude
to see how's it going ...

quiet all around
cause the news is bad;
got to stay off the street,
hideout from the virus.

meanwhile, i slept well
 dreamt well
didn't hear the squirrels or birds;
they were all sleeping too.

doing what comes naturally.

Kia Edit

sail on.
smooth as a goose landing on calm water,
we glided along.
the voice said:
continue on ohio 511
north for three miles.

 this regular day we're following instructions from the global positioning
system/gps through rain and light mid~day traffic.

how much should we notice?
looking out the window it's
North Olmsted, practically Cleveland.
i lived a few miles from here 45 years ago.
seems i'm going it again.
didn't mean to either time.

how much should we care?
the kia is going in
for an oil change.
not by itself.
It's good, but not beyond reality.
got the con.

meanwhile coronavirus
is running rampant.
it has been talked about ... we'll see what happens.
   

ache

it is the ache inside
i settle with,
 hold on to ...
keeping me company
between stormy nights
and looking over morning coffee.

i can tell you the
plans for my next poem are vague;
 as they should be. i suppose.

when the time comes i will
spell out something,
maybe have a vivid dream when
i don't expect it. or there'll be a big wind
and a change in the weather.
that'd be alright.
now, walking to the corner,
turn right or left?
feels good wondering.
you know. the day is ok.

like rain

wind early.
 snow, coming down like rain.
for a few hours in the afternoon'
falling thick when i'm looking out at it.
i'd like to hear it beating on the roof.
a heavy, foreboding sound.
 while i'm wishing,
how about a bowl of popcorn.

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?

going to warm

 a final sign winter's ended,
a snow melting 50 degrees
five days in a row;
starting tomorrow,
so we are depending on the weather forecast.
what do i think?
wait and see, right?

robins in february ohio

six in a bush,
this below-freezing day.
they appear round and ruffled,
seems cold for them to be well fed.
it's very cold and they keep eating
tiny buds on the bush by the window.
a flock on nine flashed in a nearby tree.
five seconds - they were gone ... flashed off.
25 Fahrenheit.
puffs of light snow.
don't know where those birds'll sleep.
must be tougher than they look.

holy moli

looking around,
reading words of others, poets.
that sort ... various.
and i was thinking
what they say.
then i write,

what i say.
say what?
it goes in good tempo,
you got the beat?
my friend, alex, he's a drummer.
all he's ever done.
puts me in a stretch.
makes my heart call out
i'd cry if no one's looking.
wipe my nose,
think home long ago,
and geese flying in a v overhead.
a good thought like that
calms me down.

unlike snowly

now the word
is wait another day.
snow is on the way
again they say.
hard to get excited though
two days in  a row.
don't you know.
even though
it's trickling in
rather thin.

rain mostly

for today the weather is messed up.
forecasters give us a 90 percent chance of rain
outside ... right here, around here.
well, it isn't giving, they offer.

and chance seems the wrong word.
likely hood. two words.
probability, that's it. 
messy, all over the streets.

when rain turns to snow.
i know the large dump trucks parading  around
will dump tons of salt to be smashed all over the streets.
and you can sit at the table and look out the window.

about a winter concert

okay ... that's a breath,
now i'll tell you ... as i recall,
of an afternoon concert in late February.
the Cleveland Orchestra, so it's again
Severance Hall, what a place.
their home zone.
Michael Tilson Thomas, conductor ...
top of the heap, and composer of
Mediations on Rilke. also, we heard
Symphonie Fantastique by Berlioz.
we sat on the aisle, row five and wow.
those musicians worked hard for us
to fill the hall
with solid, good sound ...
they succeeded.
what pleasure

alluring titles

reading the titles of my poems,
expecting to find them interesting.
some are, others not all.
to read in ten seconds with
no twist or depth on all.

give me more than a tantalizer.
dish me out substance.
 how about a topic.
start there. mind if i talk to you?
a campfire by the river.
i wait for you, you wait for me?
get the fire going. we'll be warm.

i'll button my coat to the collar,
see if that helps.
as i notice the ground outside disturbing,
bright light, no snow.
i found i'd written the same thing
several years ago,
this surprise at February no snow.

give me a chill breeze
or i'll wait inside for a weather change.
maybe fill my poem with genuine attraction.
or i need a drive around
to look in the fields.
there always is something going on there.

Dreams I recall

been remembering my dreams,
with a good flash in the morning,
then forget to write them down. 

these days of winter

morning clear sky, a pleasant, bright, light blue.
very pretty, even amazing.
seems i could reach out, wave my hand and touch it.
and overall the weather feels as if it could become even unseasonably warmer soon.

don't know what to think of that.
there is all the talk of climate change and global warming.
we don't know where it is going to lead.

the populace in the immediate vicinity seems to be taking time easily.
moving along each day with no apparent hurry.
i can say each night i'm sleeping well in good dream.

daytime cool temps cold, not frigid,
with no snow here in mid-February.
it is dry weather.

i've been writing notes; although thinking cream pie while eating less in general.

mon

the Monday pickup trash day in Norwhere.
you know how it goes
we're not there
so it isn't serious.
though a slow day of
rain and snow-melt
in the depths of my soul
i hear the train call
to wake me in the middle of my heavy thought
i turned once, remained quiet.

we were rated the number two radio station in los angeles.
i asked him what he wanted,
our program director doubted we could be number one.
i delivered in top fashion.
in a year we became number one in los angeles.
with the largest radio audience in america.

with eyes open i lay figuring what is next.
wait and see i say to myself
wait and see
intention. 

posture

sit up straight.
i'm not the one to be giving orders,
however, it is a point worth mentioning.
don't slouch;
stand tall as you can.
leave the others to do what they may.
be proud of your self.
so, that means a little smile is necessary.
now get along and be the best you can.

colding

this happened today
18 degrees only.
tomorrow and the week ahead
warmer weather they say.
slightly warmer,
but just enough to mention it ...
maybe that much.

snow moon

there's a snow moon,
an old moon.
the glow moon
 you'll see

i'm on board.
will hang on tight.
as the moon is bright.
look beyond the swirling clouds
into the twisting light;
wait for me.

deer out

3:00 the world was silent

got up to see five large deer

on the lawn in heavy snow.

all sound stopped.

a good quiet

blanket

blanket white, can't see rolling as you go on, out far, lost in pale colorlessness.
 i can hardly distinguish a shade.
winter, there you are
lying down outside.

headline news

headline news
has me confused
had eggs for breakfast
one piece of toast
eating better ... less, not more.
it's Tuesday, a theatrical play tonight.

so many stories
from around the world.
talking the news thing.
not trump the buffoon.
he can squeak his own wheels.

hello my friends.
dear hearts.
did i tell you i can't find the sixty dollars of paint i bought in december.
i need to paint a bit,
and put writing in order.

let me think pizza, some,
decent pizza;
it is appropriate
to put on my mind.
the rest of life and the news will fit around it.

three feb

monday 3 feb, outside is warm.
no snow,  it's not like i've seen.

how could i, why should i
talk about the warm?

because february never
happened like this before.
when i repeat myself,
it's because i'm rattled.
that's good, because i'm paying attention.

warm

winter is too warm.
can do harm.
we may never know.
wait and see.

another sandwhich

made a sandwich

like the other day.

called it lunch,

returned to pick up

where i found a good rhyme ... 

only i forgot 

the good rhyme, 

it was nowhere 

to be found.

a once a year rhyme 

turned its back on me, 

jumped ship. 

special because i  don't often dwell in rhyme. 

so when i find a good one 

like this, it is exceptional.

now what is exceptional is: 

i lost it. 

seemed evident i'd find it 

waiting for me. too large an occasion 

to be overlooked. so i made this note

to exhibit the importance

of my lost rhyme.
sadly, didn't help.
if i can recover
i will.

could

forget winter for now,
there is no cold or snow;
although next week could change everything.
i'll be eating oatmeal and looking out the window.
meanwhile, i could read, paint or write
all day, all night.
see how it goes.
change everything,
work in different sizes,
paint on the wall instead of canvas.
you think?

between

sure in between,
not cold or warm ...
thinking lunch.

had a sandwich.
no snow coming.
this is late january.

hardly gets below freezing at night.

new snow

flakes float down.
a few, enough to make us feel
it is practically winter ...
and enough
to wind out January ...
all we're going to get.

Mail

this mail delivery person is a guy.
took it out of his hand.
i got it as he smiled.
seemed easy.

however, i missed a package on the porch.
didn't see it.
and another in the mailbox...
didn't check.

thought how things got messed up.
kept going over the mental list,
thinking of stuff piled on.
jeeze o-pete.

deer here

three deer walked in our yard.
large, confident animals.
quiet...a team.
don't see them every day,
i thought then i would.
now three or four days later,
i'm waiting their return.

not wit

what a nitwit
shot john lennon...
who would have grown.
at least john had time with the beatles.

now the world waits;
for only now and then
even the great ones find a voice
that expands world wide.

them squirrels

one tree out there, by the window.

2 brown squirrels, small to medium.
don't get me wrong, they are both the same size;
between small and medium.

here's how they partner up:
one's runs down on the left side;

the other, the other.

they stick their heads in the snow,

dig around, come up with a nut.

a frosty way to eat.

i'm cold watching them chew.

cold and flurries, january,

week four, week to go,

this is january 20, 2020.

snow some

it's cold,
not way, but enough.
wind and light snow tonight,
they say.

radical clipping

i was in the mood for it.

Bill told where, so i went.
to the bangladeshi part of town, piazza vittorio.

for a shave and a haircut.
a bus ride got me there.

two barber shops'
side by side.'
walked into one less busy.

all seemed well,
the barber asked me how he should cut it.

i looked at him.
told him, "you're the barber."

i sat down got a sheet over me and he went to work on my hair.
with a shampoo, a big cut...a big change for me.

he did well.
radical, modern, but i took it.

thought about it...

figure i'd do it again next month

if i was around.
if i could find his shop.

wound tight

the string's off my dad's violin.
It leans against the wall,
not used now at all.

he played the songs.
the parties lasted long...
what nights of fest.

how they enjoyed laughter.
casual, no strain.
together in loving refrain.

so then...

I found more poems, and plan to sort them
while waiting for the strange winter to straighten
itself out. For now, there is no snow. This is the
warmest of Januarys I have seen. Clouds have
been heavy and colorful.

darkness

take this morning
while i was sleeping,
twisting in dream
then glanced at the clock;

could've jammed more thoughts in
but chose not to.
rather break from doing.
just rest, wait and see.

The mark

a new year
begins easily as a smudge
on the wall.
watch it now...holy cow,

see it hanging near the calender.
it's a circular plastic thing you set the piano wheels on. Circle, plastic - got it?
legs are in the air,

wheels on on the disc.
things okay.
move the piano.
smooth as my dentist.

now the piano won't
gouge into the floor.
can you dig it?
poems go well when you think about 'em.

streets alive

this day in rome
passed Jonathan of the Angels;
we looked in a flash.
both of us nearly
fell over, turning back
and smiling to shake hands.
been missing that face
I've known 25 years.
dog gone, he's out there looking good.
Good to see you, jonathan.


then the beginning of piazza navona
the print maker i've not seen thirty years,
we smiled and waved, and
it was so good to see the man again.
we both so much aged
but his face i know.
been a while since the last time we waved.

for many years
buffete due has been
pleasing to us.
gentle service, good cooks.
then it fell apart this trip
the second and the third times.

i'm crippled so
 no cost for any museum.
we only need
decide where and when.
did a poor job deciding
when to half the venizia,
and quit there.

saw Gii passing in the crowd,
he didn't see me.
Caught up,
Shook hands.
two other times he got by
drifting...out of gear.

then franco walked by. the next day,
Slippery as ever.
mario, brother of gii, said hello.
always a nice guy

saw roberto from the window.
lello is around this neighborhood.
talked to giacomo's brother, sandro.

graziano, and pino his friend.
angelo and simone.
a tight ship.

danella, gian, paula work
at cisternino.

the old man still sells prints near piazza navona.
thought he recognized me,
second time he didn't.

bright out

new year day month,
floating in my morning mind.
It looks like rain, didn't happen.
i used to look at the newspaper..
read some top stories anyway.

i'm ready. so is the coffee.
you know how quiet that makes the morning
when i'v got a cup i like.
sipping and looking out the window.
thinking of old times, happy to recall.

drifting again. salute with a bright smile.
making the morning look right.
know there is more.
the sky is clearing.

now i'm lightly spinning without direction,
never was my way.
need to figure the morning, where to go.
i'll get there. where i'm going. nothing changes.

rain on

take a steady winter rain,
enjoy the dreamy patter.

tail end

the whole thing is nearly over.
dot  all the i's, cross a few t's

did the year
start by slipping along quickly...
seemingly well oiled...
month after month.
quicker than I imagined...

is this an interrogator?
a part of speech.

moved right along. daily.
did you see it go by?

rain about

not enough to hardly say
more than a word about...i can
hold out my hand and feel
a drop i suppose...have to
walk down to the porch,
and it's early for that.  but '
i can hear it. that's the
best part...well, writing
 is good so you can
see it. all i've got to say is:
pretty damn warm for the
 last week in december. 

day beyond

Blank, oh
starting empty
and there is gladness for whoever needs it...
day after Christmas

speeding horse-drawn buggy
she's off and we're going to breakfast.
we pulled out lighter coats to wear.
we should be staring at each other...questioningly.

partly cloudy 62.
instead of buckling down for a snow storm.
it's off to shelby then to Planktown.
i wait in the car and watch

as five guys are
taking the old roof off,
putting on a new one.

slam bam, day after Christmas, it's sunny and dry.

world holiday

woke sneezing...
left-over cold held me tight.
It's not right,  it's time to move on.
for goodness sake
 Yeah, time to move on.
where are you?
forget about the cold business.

my dad was in the coal business.
folks shoveled coal into stoves to heat their homes. 
imagine winters like that?
i remember. i was born into it.

now, today, we're doing Christmas eve.
no snow anyway.
put your sleigh away, daniel.
plus, here's another thing,
we've turned the corner with the shortest day of the year.
so look ahead.
no need to shed a tear. summer is on the way-o.
we'll love the days ahead.
ole'  ole'

a.m. i am

i feel like corn on the cob.

riding around in the wagon with my pals

getting smashed up all day.

or this may be morning thinking.

give me some coffee and a half hour,

i'll put this all together.

times

many the times
we've  walked worn
grey, stone lines
alternating shadow and slips of sun,
a town rough to touch
smooth on the heart
under cold night lights or sun.
going to sit now and think about it.
here's a place.
ice cream and coffee.
just right in this
city of my dreams

been there

not too cold for Christmas.

but you want to have a picnic
better get a space heater
sunshine if it's daylight
and reindeer if it's Christmas.
go ahead, you choose.
the shoes is on your foot.
many options open.
so pick one, or not to be.
it's your wagon.
i think you can do well.

fish and hibi

had fried fish
small and entire,
at a table
in the sun, just off the street;
with a good glass of wine.

next day we crossed ponte sisto,
saw hibi and his bride.
that was a treat ... he reappeared.
i wish them well.

we see

seems late in the season.
give a reason
for thinking again
about ducks flying over ...
rather work a while, eh?
they do have a strong voice.
sweet if you're not too close.
power in a honk.
nothing sweet about it.
need a lake.
let ducks fly.

***

noon rain,
take it or leave it?
come and get it.
set your watch ...
missed today, good.

arista, pork roast and spinach

on vittorio emanuale
a 46 took us away.
 1200: bells chimed.
 may rain this 2 jan 2020

sirens as we crossed the river.
our bus crowd had gained strength.
everyone heard  the loud man with a voice squished, as he kept  talking.
a street car bell from a century ago sounded once sharply, sweetly.

we were aboard with
 a good bus crowd. stirred up.
privately we had anticipation of lunch 
i saw gorganzola on the menu and knew i would order it.

fury falls

inside is always silent.
a sound tight apartment we've rented.
from inside we heard the rain.
looked out to see a storm unleashed,
pounding like no other we've seen.
a memory rain apart from all others.

changed form

went to Trionfale, the market,
along our way,
at a corner
i met a Bangledeshi

speaks five languages
talks to people on the street,
small groups,sells them tours.
that's a slick talker.

angelo, simone

we don't
wake early
as they.
start in motion.

give joy,
serve all the potion...
in good attitude
day after day.

oh, they do;
and do again.
people keep coming back.
they make a visit there a pleasure.

four- twenty a.m.

four-twenty a.m. and i’m thinking poetry
in absolute silence
words run by
then piano phrases enter my head
for Some Enchanted Evening,
hearing Enzio Pinza sing some lines
it’s a heck of a way to wake up

and it’s nearly dawn,
street lamps still on
i'll make coffee in a while,
think of other things.
good morning world
how are you?

no rain tonight

running dry.
cool and okay.
on the road
low and our way.
see more silver
hollow help us,
heavens hold on.

tell me true.
turnover, take a right.
slow down will ya.
walking. on we go.
tenderly, so tenderly.
...
 rolling words on
and on.

where ya be?

my poem readers,
lookers for sure,
who or where
i have no idea.

***

i read new
poems daily,
warm and donut fresh,
sweet, no sugar,
with the scent of angels.

calm water

another rain day,
complete. inside
looking out.
then dress for
water everywhere.
gallons of it. more
 than seems reasonable.
hear splashes, patter.
dripping. splatter. drops.

i keep my neck covered,
don't need drafts...heard that somewhere, thought it seems reasonable;
getting comfortable.

it's winter, that counts a lot.
keeping from thinking chocolate.
 sounds desperate but
i'm just working away from candy,
when i call it candy i want to leave it alone.