robins eyes

It is said when a pickpocket walks down the street and all he sees are pockets.


you know robins see the worms
when they’re hopping around out there,
that’s how they find them
one after the other
from looking

they see the movement,
sharp eyes
too bad i couldn’t train one
to take the eye test for my driver’s license
if their legs were long enough to hit the brake
i’d let one drive me around
i feel lucky
and i’ve got insurance

all depends

no mowing today
straight rain for a second day
good for the earth
good for the crops
thank God
or the weatherman
depends what channel you’re tuned to

running wild

look out now
take heed
you’ll need
to hide the feed
cause in the lead
at great speed
here comes greed
the mighty steed
leaping hard
running wild

where's the old town?

where’s the old town?
gone with the old timers
who used to always be hanging around,
in an out of the stores and the bars
and the pool hall, Red and Woody, Danny and Duck Eggs
and all the ladies jolly and fair
can’t name ‘em all

driving, some’d stop right in the
middle of Main Street and just talk,
others drove around them
well i seen ‘em all, seems just a while ago,
now they’ve vanished like arrowheads in the fields
and the clear water creeks
or cut down with the woods i guess

just in the door of the old diner
i waved off a menu and ordered coffee
“alls i’m sayin’ is”
concentration please, eyes on the ball
tongue half hanging out mouth
i watched a guy stacking peas on his knife
with his fingers
you got to be kidding me

the clang, clang, clang, clang at the railroad crossing
a hundred yards away now a metallic
tap, tap, tap, tap buried under traffic hum
talking how Old Mrs. Batt swings right in order to turn left
“ warms up to a turn” he said and laughed
dipping toast into gravy

bits of chatter and the clack of cups and forks on plates
bounced the walls and ricocheted my way
thank god they never have a radio blarin’
my hand over my cup so
the waitress wouldn’t top off my coffee,
had it just right where I wanted it
talk jumped to school band practice,
I heard, “damn drum thunder”
they callin’ the tribe in, are they?

i sipped dark java and then turned my head to the window
where afternoon light danced in through the old maple tree
making patterns across the checkered table cloth
“pea brain ass wipes”
light rain pattered on the roof
a second later the door opened and
sally came in with her new bouffant-and-a- half, she checked it with a touch
and did a wiggle strut, as she moved to sit down
on that overgrown empty lot, over on the corner, there used to be a house
an abandoned wreck half fallen, they tore the rest down
it wasn’t that bad a place, as i recall
“hot damn, ‘s nearly summer”
pick ups trucks parked outside, this old joint was hopping
still has antlers on the wall i observed
and it made me smile

still churning and a kicking,
the old town’s a sleeping babe
that rolled over, curled a leg
and tucked the covers under her chin
taking up a new position

nearly june

nearly June and our swinging sun
has worked it’s way around the side of the house.
a good odd thing the settlers did
laid the streets at a thirty degree angle
north by north east to south by south west
credit also to god, and the way the river runs

by June, at our 41 degree northen latitude
the morning sun leaps into the windows
on what we call the north side of the house
how about that,
what a sparkle

what a pleasant change for the summer
sun coming in from the north, sorta
that first golden hour of dawn,
a delight to wake up to
or, at least, have coffee with.

frog 09 - the season opener

after the usual cold Ohio winter
dryness came - no rain for a while
cool air has packed her bags and left
now finally spring is leaning on summer


we cleaned up the results of long winter neglect
got everything ready for the new season
things look changed, charged and reset, even the frog,
looking as if he recently crawled from his winter mud bed


Herb took nearly a week to get reacquainted
with us and the new frog year
now he’s talking to us again, like old times
today it rained, all day, on and off


this warm and sticky evening, in drizzle at dusk he hopped
out to the side and up to the heavy plank
that spans the pond
a few more hops to the middle, to reconnoiter


tonight he’ll use darkness and the rain to roam for a while
or call other roamers in, it’s what home frogs do
we’ll wait and see how it develops,
it's what frog watchers do

miracle heavenly father

Author Henry Miller said if one believes, then miracles happen. I don’t think you have to believe; I think it is up to us to pay attention to recognize when they occur.

today as i drove from a side road
a mile down a major heavy traffic area
at forty-five miles and hour
things went my way

through a dozen green traffic lights without pause
then onto the freeway when
it occurred to me
there is a divine something

the lights changing for me
didn’t happen by chance
luck is not in my repertoire
don’t believe in accidents

it had nothing to do with diligence or hard work
i was aware it was divine intervention,
no idea why the sudden miracle, i must have been due
haven’t changed my life style for doodley

robin's

robins and robin’s sons
from sun to sun, year to year
and the little bird girls too
have known our ways for generations

they fear us less
cause we live here too
we’re practically furniture
to fly around

and they keep returning
the same extended family
pecking around as we pass by
they don’t startle now and fly away

worms they want
and worms they’ll find
insects too, for the little ones

breed ‘em
feed, em
keep out of the way

teach them to find their own food
it’s robin’s work
in a robin’s day
it's a robin's world

best of both worlds

best of both worlds
it could be that way
as some perceive
as some friends say

for we spend time there
and some time here,
whether far or near
rapidly goes another year

as Romans have
a summer country home
so we do we, only ours
is in another country

quiet of the weekend

quiet of the weekend
final page of another week
turn out in comfortable clothes
stay at home chores present themselves

a pause from our regular endeavors
regroup to do it again
be thankful for what we have
mark it all down in the good

eyes down

five minutes to home
she found an odd button
that we put in the jar
for such things

her eyes to the ground
everywhere we go
oh, what she’s found
the jars are filling

she’s found money, buttons, badges,
chain, earrings, hair clips,
combs, pendants, knobs, hats, balls, t-shirts
and kittens in a tree

flying back this time
she stood up in the isle
bent down, picked up a quarter
others didn’t see

no matter where we are
don’t have to ask or remind her
whatever i need, i wait a bit,
she’ll find it

pond again

late May turns warmer
on the verge of mosquitoes
June bugs, and dragon flies,
fat dove on the roof of my lab
observes a moment, then is gone,
very small bunny running,
eating, playing, sitting, testing his speed
then a long day working robin,
always first one up, last one down,
swoops in,
scares the bunny up to speed again
Herb the frog stays center pond
makes his noise
we repeat it,
taking in nature
from lawn chairs
on the side line

steve

Steve works on our car
has a garage down the street
always busy when i slip in there

yet calm, relaxed and competent
wiping his hands on a rag as
we chat a bit

his manner lends ease to his customers
as does his assuredness that
problems will be rectified

it is a pleasure to do business with
the man who’s smile is genuine
and his comfort contagious

i don’t mind paying
for good service

your life

how you live your life
what you do with your time
is your business to work on, kid
all yours, i’ve got mine

i try to be a good example
it’s what i mean to do
show you what’s right, and hold you tight
i know you’ll make it through

i wish and hope the very best
you know, honey, i do
but it’s not me that’s living your life
it’s all yours, babe, and your life’s up to you

cheese in china

last week M said
she wanted to go to china alone
a couple of months in the outback
or whatever it’s called
away from the cities

without a tour
to see the village folk
what they do
how they dress, what they’re eating
so many of them in so much country

and when M’s sister calls to speak with her
i’ll say she’s in China
and her sister will ask,
“...What about cheese
in China?”

this train

nights are colder
now i’m older
it doesn’t surprise me
not a little bit

my ticket’s stamped
years ago in blue frosty snow
on a long forgotten train
when it was i can’t recall

no memories remain
i bet the wind knows
every haunting refrain
the old metal whistle blows

how much longer i ride
before my fare expires on this line
sure could use a sleeper and a diner car
the engineer’s a friend of mine

the robinses

their new nest where last year's was
on the top of the trellis by a corner of our house
three eggs, one already hatched
if we walk near it disturbs the elders

mother leaves and father warms and watches
or mother waits and father picks up food for all
the hardest working birds are robins
and it’s just begun

another month and the
youngsters will be hoping in the yard
parents will instruct how to find food
kids start slowly, but they learn

our way

Though at times it appears that way, this is not a diary, it’s a simple poetry blog (I like simple). Here’s one from Roma.

First, a writers comment: You know, when I read my stuff, I want it to run right along. If it meanders a bit for a reason, that's okay too.



our way

down our street
not even a street
a cobblestone alley
way – call it a way
down our way thirty seconds
we’re into the nearly on the corner bar Juliano’s

jeeze he has a happy face when we come in
thirty-something, thin and fit, always in a t-shirt
he and his charming wife run the place

we took position
on the tall wooden backless bar stools
not cozy, but we weren’t moving in
we came for a couple of quick glasses of wine
well, not quick
glasses of wine in Roma aren’t quick
not now, nor have they ever been

Juliano always recommends an
Italian red something we never heard of
and we partook
under soft amber light, sipped in slow time
mulling the day, how it played
no crowd as yet, nearly dinner hour
hardly a sound
we looked around, noted every thing
including paintings on the wall
oh boy, not much there
and no rush for us

we ordered a second glass
would you like to try something different?
no, grazie, the same

and thusly an hour slid along the bar
dropped on the floor
skid out the door, it did

thusly time went by the wayside
and we followed it home
I do tell, it was swell

gate 20

on our way to gate 20 in terminal A
we kept walking up and down
couldn’t find it

street numbers in Italy you expect to be hard to find
in some areas households choose their own number
any number they want
I’m going to call mine 007

in more orderly areas numbers run consecutively
with one side of the street independent of the other
so the 300 block could be across from the 700 block
odds on one side, even on the other, sometimes

finding a gate in the air terminal should be easy
after much looking
determining gate 20 wasn’t there,
we asked
a worker said it was not in terminal A
it was downstairs in the new terminal AA

A..A ?
in twenty years i’ve never heard an Italian stutter
there must be another malady to compensate for this lack
I’m sure it has something to do with numbering

will the next new terminal be AAA?
I’ll drink to that
or drive to it

second glance

Thanks to each of you for your participation in the comments section of this blog. Your words are encouragement.

The well hasn't run dry, there's more to do and say - poems, like the next hitters in the line up, are waiting on deck for a chance at the plate, but appease me a bit, today i wish to return to the core