changes

along our way
the calendar unwinds,
weeks into seasons;
how well do you keep track?
it happens to me when
occasionally i think of it.
as garden vegetables change,
picked ripe, some eaten
some preserved out of sight;
books are read, time moves.
when winter develops
delights she had saved
now ready for eating;
design becomes surprises,
how tasty; thanks, planter and planner.

starting

starting early
before dawn;
creeping right along.
pants on, moving.
found my shoes
hum a song.
hear her making coffee.
i'm ready.
come on day.

alive cows

eating grass
looking around,
calm in the pasture,
no sound...not making a

Cool and rain

cool and rain.
a sudden autumn chill
came sooner than expected.
cap and jacket
serve you well,
the season changed,
time to give into it.
find the joy.

all share

breakfast in Shelby,
two hours after dawn,
half hour to home;
deliberately taking small roads;
got behind two women riding
a horse drawn cart.
smiling, talking, just older than girls,
their strong brown horse, beautiful.
they in cart, we in car
All share these country lanes
this partly gold sun morn.

go ibid

last week heard cleveland orchestra
in oberlin. tiny hall.
phrases loud as i've ever heard
also softness in the extreme.
strange selections, locally written.
the french pianist played his entire movement
with his left hand

good job, wild program, not your regular.
now, heard the orchestra again last night
with lang lang on piano.
why is he renown?
folks. he's smooth.
long fast runs...quiet, quick.
clean as i've never heard in any recording.
he's got it.

29 september 2018 was

yesterday evening we went to Severance Hall
for the 100th anniversary gala of the Cleveland Orchestra.
Franz Welsor-Most conducted,
Lang Lang played the piano,
M drove.

the audience in formal wear
went for a dinner after the concert
we went home,
it was bedtime.

phone proclamation

i received a phone call that began "Hello."
in that one word i heard
the voice and education of a 1950s show girl.
she continued lightly admonishing,
slightly breathy, "I'm calling from
the U.S. Treasury Department..." that was enough;
i smiled and disconnected. she failed the audition.
i hung up.

day begins

air still and foggy,
different the way this day begins.
i could be working early;
am thinking of the mystery in the fields,
beautiful out this morning.
first coffee starts me off;
playing it familiar.
i'll think about the fields
then decide which pot to stir.
taking the morning easy.

fall so

the bottom dropped
out of the thermometer.
it's September, after all.
from shorts to long pants;
the transition to fall.

aleppo pepper

quiet morning
at the country store,
one other customer at the register;
a Mennonite woman
buying a large assortment of bananas.
m wondered what recipe she had;
waited as bananas were
individually weighed.
m picked up aleppo pepper from Syria,
the fiery taste of the Mediterranean;
we'd sprinkle it on fried eggs;
a brilliant tang for breakfast:
leapers

Ganges, Oh

out back crossed
Ganges, Ohio;
too small
to poem.

everything is temporary

not extremely hot, no rain today.
the city guys in hard hats
are tearing out the sidewalk
in front of our house
and all the way down the street,
preparing for a new gas line,
a better line,
fat plastic, so it won't rust
and will last a century
or until there is something better;
they talk among themselves
and explained to us
so we'd know:
everything is temporary.

Easter Island statues

Easter Island statues;
want to wake to see
one like it in your yard?
are forty feet tall,
weigh 75 tons.
mow around it.

oil an

oil an onions
and tortillas
and cheese
are good
together fried,
sprinkle salt

the season

cloudy and humid
so what, hey it's august,
i wait all year for this discomfort;
it could be an island with the sea
but i don't have to use bug repellent.
feel it getting better?
watermelon is in season.

august moving

august: the quickest moving month in the northern hemisphere,
now midway
marking summer on the wane.
time to diminish in intensity.
can you believe it?
so soon again.
sweetcorn is the good of it

morning, august

a sunny, warm, still morning
for bees and hummingbirds.
sip your coffee,
take a look.
enjoy the day.
could use a pile of days like this.

.

going to rain

the booms swept north to south
shook the windows,
and the house,
explosions of glorious thunder,
only a pause...before rain pounded.

carefully i planned words to write this,
fell back asleep...
woke remembering little;
sidewalks are damp

Thankyou

Annie and Tom,
Thanks for your support.
I should work harder.
Oh, Annie, I forgot how to publish comments.
i think they are on.

.

waiting weather

attractive cloud formations,
that's it...no rain,
not out there...here.
nothing expected, forget it,

a dull okay, that's good enough.
can't have it all; would like it cooler,
there i go.
what do i want?

i think, first - not to be foolish;
we can't have it all:
there are good starting points...
like nice clouds.

so, heat's here

will be warm today, say hot, they say;
so summer, show me what you've got today.

good new travels

my friend plans
ten days with his son, mountain camping
away from the heat, sounds good;
oh yes, whatever your program: enjoy summer

buggies, sunday

back around New Haven...
we saw eight in a row,
slow trotting, horse drawn, buggies;
all made the turn onto a smaller side road,
on their way to Sunday meeting;

anytime we pass a buggy, the driver,
man or woman, will raise a hand,
catch our eye and smile;
granting us permission to be there...
by saying a friendly hello.

we see faces and hands as
happy children wave out from
the buggy's rear window.

hey, how about it

like a super-size pillow
see it? i like 'em.
dark and white clouds billow...
floating by...see 'em?
look up and wonder; will it rain,
or pass us by? what do you say?
i'd say though it's seems so...
kind of darn dry, you know.
we wait rain, we do.

pour it out, could you?
fill us up, Water Maker.

rain would help

my feet look older
maybe it's the heat.
there are clouds passing by;
dampness would help.

trees and beans

being anxious as you
to see what this contains,
i'll say the title was written,
the following day a poem developed.

bees: make it trees and bees, better eh?
i did, so you have to,
i'd say so, so it is said.
now i'll clear this out,

write it and read it.
july 7, 2018...it'll be 78 degrees in fahrenheit.
no breeze to speak of...
no smoking either...
maybe that's the root of what this is about

when it

don't have my nicotine
mine, all mine. personal.
doing without, am i fooling myself?
folding myself

correcting settings on my machine, began to read these words out loud. became angry, not too much, just enough.

fill me in, what's easier.
the distraction will remove fault,
take the rest away.
who needs auto correct?
yes, it functions well.
am i smoothing out yet?
mentioning is a kin to ...

watermelon filled the space.

mark the date in stone

crawl on by, keep going
you moaning yearning, i feel you
reaching vainly,
deep hunger.

plumber eyes

the guy is plumber,
fixed our drippy faucet.
took a year for him to get here,
because we didn't call him;
for sure that slowed him down.

then amazon did everything,
found a guy who knew what tools
to bring, and how to use them.
good for him and us
but i never got his name.

you see how well the new world works?
i want to believe in efficiency
for us, from him.
yet, we never got his name.
for shame, cold world.
i never heard him say his name.