changes

school out at 3,

now comes the bus;

3:45, see that? last kid off.

makes to and from in forty five minutes,

an exercise in patience,

in using time to the best of their ability.

i hope so. i never took a bus,

don't know a good example.

oh, the kid got off wearing ear phones, plugs or buds.
something studious or rock music.

and we had tickets for a Brahms concert

couldn't take a thirty minute drive up and back,

not in the mood, not last night;

read instead and went to bed early.

amid thoughts of April showers, flowers,

Easter on the way.

those bunnies, eggs and chocolate

are long gone now for me, thank god.

that's good news.

don't need it. the world changes, thank god, again.

apparent dream

i want

to remember my dream,

not all, a fraction. a minuscule dollop.

last night's i reason.

didn't it just happen?

seems that-away.

i showered, made the bed

am drinking coffee.

hear what i said?

it's simple, dream searching,

the tiniest morsel of recent dream

has hidden.

look at this, i can't recall a fleck.

when i began writing poems,

roughly, more or less, but much

but much (worth repeating) escapes me.

never dreamed

april eve

the month is spring, the calendar says
Easter, flowers, soft wind, warmth.
though many years it's Ohio's
time of one last heavy snow.

not what i wish
when April comes to mind,
but i'm aware.

last year we didn't have an April snow,
nor the year before.
i mention it now because we're due.
today's projected high is a degree over freezing,
and now the sky is full cloudy, heavy, steel grey.

i want warm. today is April eve,
and i'm not looking out at Spring.
we had ground covering snow last night,
will it melt in seasonal warmth,
or pile on more white?
enough...i'll think Spring flowers.

past year's

in half a reflection
i see past years become pastures

because of the long fields
we pass each week,
a variety, changing always.
i nearly mentioned seasons,

in Ohio changing fields are endless.

now in march, looking around it seems forever cold.
this year, last year, the years before that.
now the end of winter we're between seasons,
nothing definite. one not gone,
the new not underway.

in a week or few we'll be in warm,
let that seem forever, always warm.
ah...the satisfaction.
that'll go nicely in the pastures.
with wheat, goats, cows, horses and corn.
all the way.

the village

on the near corner

a street cleaner rolls by loudly humming

no discernible tune.

not a man with a straw broom,

a large, blue truck with spinning brushes

on the bottom,

shaking houses a block away.

this is life in the village.

soon it will be spring

took the winding road, familiar drive

for breakfast at our same spot Shelby,

an easy, country ride all the way.
wound past Plymouth and New Haven,
beyond the falling down, drive-in theater
to our unsung, out of the way village
where same spot parking is a comfort.

again we found the restaurant tranquil,

no music, light chatter, usual crew working.

customers at ease, composed.
seems everyone's half pilgrim.

had eggs again, cooked to satisfaction.

farm fresh, must be chickens nearby.

a degree or so more and we'd have warm spring.

it soon will be.

cooking it

i am looking at a plantain recipe,

stick with me,

it's right here on this paper.

now, i'll set it on the table.
see here,

the recipe says i should cut the plantains

in circles? how in hell do i do that?

it’s a banana not a melon.

well, it looks like a banana.

slices, you could say slices.

they'd be circular, maybe that's it.
another thing, here, this is good,

why is everything fried

until it’s "golden brown".

did you notice?

is that the only attractive cooking color, brown?

isn’t there another shade?

forget i asked, close your eyes,

breath easy...in, out.

now fry the damn plantain.
they're delicious.

robin vision

from the porch
75 yards away i see...
the porch isn't 75 yards away.
75 yards away from the porch
i see a robin on a rooftop.
not a starling, a robin;
pause now to let that sink in.

the figure of an hourglass, swelt.
the younger generationals
may not know an hourglass.
i understand why you not would,
a negative know about.

a fine figured bird as you can imagine.
standing tall, not ball shaped
like those squatty starlings.
the robin, princess of the aviary,
a well-formed chick, not spherical.
tiny eagle-like of your dreams,
though if you seldom dream of robins.
i understand completely, who can blame you.

march, the middle

sitting on the bench

on the porch in the sun,

nothing done, especially,

the day's early, relatively.

all is fine. the time is mine,

it's quiet and a slow start...

they say it will be warmer later,

they is the weather people.

for me to do now? i'm going in.

thinking up new passwords, isn't necessary,

google probably thinks i should.

is this practically a romantic poem yet?

at this moment i'll clear my head.

enough said, except about the weather;

it'll be 45 degrees today, i'm excited.

spring degrees are a reasonable presumption.

that's what winter in ohio does to you.

enough writing in here, it's march,

i'm going back on the porch

while the sun is still up.

have a nice day

ohio weather - 10 day summary

cloudy, wind, morning snow showers,

sunny, cloudy, mostly sunny, sleet,

partly cloudy. have a nice day.

comfort

old classmates getting together,

at noon, a good time for us.

been friends a while,

nine of us together,

a class fraction, maybe a fifth,

i'd have to think to give a number.

exactly nine counting me,

of this i'm sure.

we had a few empty seats.

are we getting tired or just old?

well, we had fun seeing each other;

there is comfort in that,

i'm sure.

the result: looking for the next time.
and this the first day of spring.
a lot to be thankful for,
somewhat.

for comments

anonymous is fine

no tunes

it's warmer.

the birds are back to nest in the eves.

they remember or, one of them does,

where they were born,

where he or she was born.

sparrows on one corner, starlings the other

they're flying around, they are ready.

this year i'm not whistling their song,
not now.

so far they're not nest building.

i won't sound inviting tunes,

maybe they'll build somewhere else.

i'm tempted,  it's easy,  i enjoy talking to them, but

will keep my whistle shut.

wall sun

looking bright,
the sun on the wall
had me thinking of  what i forgot already,
confusing when i put it in words;
playing mental slow ball this morn,
idly putting pieces together,
fascinated by the gold color of the sun reflected on the wall...
sure is a fine time of day.
said that before.
had an orange, made a coffee,
brown sugar today, wasn't going to, did anyway.
keeping a low profile,
nothing getting started.
i'll write this down and see what happens next.
no appointments, that's good.
reading the son by phillip meyer, enjoying
time with the native americans,
a world with nature,
a hundred years before i got here.
would you know, it was not
so long ago.

 

jotting down between storms

the wooden table from the mountain
stands dark against the wall
undisturbed...
by the window in the hall i write;
end the sentence there,
look out at at the no rain, no snow morning...
where's the unpleasant weather?
here's light frost in ohio,
i'm thinking of swinging under the golden gate,
no swinging, just heading, into the bay,
running with the tide in my Monterrey,
coming in under the great bridge,
years ago...a good time then
when running with the tide in light weather.
california, you did me well.
and the swell i rode in on.
and now recall, best of all,
when weather was no problem...
sometime i wonder where the old boat is now.
someone is treating it right, no doubt.
i'm happy to remember.
though ohio is no problem...
here cruising along,
part humming a song
recalling my boat...
working through the days,
while making note.

a break

today we got a break in the weather,
it's about time.
we were getting tired waiting;
seemed winter wouldn't let go.
now we feel the weather could be getting warmer soon,
good news if it happens.
i saw a few birds...
come ahead now,  springtime,
we're ready for you.
it rained hard...
now it's snowing.

an education

an education?​

rich kids cheating,

gain fame, admiration,

endorsements,notoriety,
a side step up in our culture.

entitled, disgusting.

why this echelon exists

is beyond cultural limits.

where is reading? 

leave me by the table lamp

to study, to wonder...
oh,  by the way, nice shoes.

spring to be

waiting with the weather,

from the inside looking out.

no doubt it will be spring,

going to get here, however,

it's not leaping out to grab us.

we'll bump along through flakes of snow,

occasional blustery rain,

all portents of this spring to be.

can't rush it.

in the country

honey bunch
why  doncha pack a lunch
i'll hold you when we get there
in the sun. see it.

we'll sit down
hang around
what you say?
it's our day of sunshine.

hold on, look. 
blue sky above, and laughter,
we'll be feeling love, my dove,
tell me, what do you say?

months bundle

nothing changes,
there is variety.

I'll have one to go.
wrap them up.
February always runs quickly,

then before you know
skip to May,
okay, we're halfway.

check the moon,
then it's June

seems what's close.
all so soon.
July again before you know it.

roll them on
moon lover.
take them quickly
as they come


light weather ahead
no more winter to speak of,
winter is a season complete.
any snow and cold ahead
will be bearable.

5 march

in Rome you could wear a hat
here in ohio you will, no doubt,
because it's very cold this march.
take your mind off of it.

pancakes keep me going
and they only happen once a week or so,
that's how powerful they are;
and warm and liquidy
with butter and syrup,
real maple syrup.

got everything set but
candles on the table,
now look! through the window near.
i'm pointing. i see flurries.

dumped a ton of comments

change

now i will, i was wrong
i will publish comments from anonymous


now i'm thinking
of "ton a comments".
that's how it rolls
dialectically in ohioan.

left my

left my beret in Finney Hall,
Oberlin Conservatory of music.
called this morning to say i left my “derby”;
called back to say it's a “beret”.
last night's concert featured a
great mezzo soprano, and piano,
then player on stand up bass made in 1741,
then came in the rest -
trumpet, drums, an accordionist
with instrument from Brazil.
they entirety gave and got a “wow”,
top line classical and jazz performance.
everyone took solos,
artists as accomplished as possible.
surprised i didn't leave with cold feet
cause they knocked my socks off.

to write

hard board and chalk
a chair and a light,
then ready to write.
...how about a thought?

that's good, just don't over do it.
you're not out to prove anything.
readers will draw their own conclusions,
that's what the chalk is for.

wild wind

the wild wind almost knocked me down,
otherwise the day is fine,
warmer.
solid sleep then eggs for breakfast.

made a coffee, sipped it down,
moved around,
took out the trash,
practically walking ok.

ok this day.
took a blast of wind
enough for now.
holy cow.

inside is warm, comfortable.
i look out the window and smile.
this note is enough to write
for now. my heart's fine.

no rain, just wind.
it's that kind of day again.

keep going

kevlar, tevlar, a tough cover
what you need.
there is that word “need” again.
Schnevlar.

no, “need”. you “need”,
keeps you working to keep up,
get along. not on top,
just getting along.

i need a tough shield, sort of.
or to move along like i have one.
look both ways.
keep going. It'll all work out.

over and out

Miracle whip, a salad dressing.
Salad oil, salad grease.
Salad sauce, i'd say.
salad sauce of happiness, call it that.
there is no miracle involved.
don't go in, the salad's dressing.
a good job, naming stuff?
one good name, you're finished,
next week find new job

sunday now

have my day right,
clouds bright in one spot this morning.
the sun is back there
covered by slow, high grey cloud swirls.
no breeze out here in front.
leaveless trees are standing still.
cold outside for sure
the prediction calls for
snow this afternoon, this morning is dry.
we'll see what winter means.
i count on any snowfall today to be beautiful.

it's saturday

flurries fall slow enough to see between,
cold enough to stay around
on the ground.
it's winter cold.
it's february, what you'd expect,
what we see when we wake
on saturday.
quite a day.
another one in winter.

little to go

grey is the morning,
now without rain.
the month is quick.
screaming through February.
nowhere particular to go.
making notes, reading
and writing what is needed.
i can coffee up
and plan ahead,
keeping order, regarding
as best i can.