near spring

unseasonably warm some say
i call this our first spring day.
we waited a winter
not outer but inner,
now we're ready to play.

too much hoping, too soon.
the dreams floating
unsubstantiated and doomed.
tossed in the wind,
we'll try again
tomorrow.

salt road

they put out salt from here to Peru,
route 61 to Shelby and beyond.
17 degrees, the day before's snow on the road.
drove there, parked, we entered.

sat by the window;
looking good, view in and out. joint's hoppin'.
sunny side up and good hash browns
i ordered that.

"for potatoes..." the waitress
looking me in the eye or over my head and out the window
finalized, "shredded or chunks?" wants to speak
her own language...a real think-about.

made my mind up - shredded;
she went away then it all came back to me: got eggs and all.
ate with gusto, paid and told her
"it's all fine what you have here...so's the coffee."

she believed me, an eye blink goodbye.
white asphalt, dry and salted
as we rode on home
oh, yeah




On a personal note: At times I
have to work poems over for days.
Others I share quickly;
I want to serve them while they're hot.

.

winter's day ride

out in the country we pass
a pair of beautiful high stepping dark horses,
brown with lighter beige patches and white slashes,
pulling a clack buggy, silhouetted in bright snow.
a family aboard, my camera not ready ...
i see them come,
with children smiling.
there, hear them laughing
... there they go.
bundled for a winter's day ride.
oh, joy ... and nice horses

.

20th century

In the old days when the phone rang
there would be a person calling.

.

graandma

Her warm heart. Her smiling.
Today is Grandma's birthday
I never said happy birthday enough to her, my favorite relative.

While born a hundred and many years ago,
I stand earth years older than she.
She'd nod her head and smile at that thought.

Time is greased
with no place to hang on.

i am looking out the window waiting.
this is too much.
some steel and winds
not powerful, but steady.


thinking Rome ... home again.
tumbling on the snow drift called winter
cold and rolling,
skies alive.






.

geese nap

semi-gray day, a few smears of blue
seen through parting dark clouds in the sky.
heater on, windows up.
road dry, 15 degrees.
pass 25 random spots in a field like dark plastic bags;
look again, one or two are moving. it's geese lying there.
their idea of a good place for a nap
is different from mine.

yes, there is steel in the winds ...
enough to test you.

taste it cold and ...
in skies alive that have come down around you.

while thinking Rome, at home
in the snow drift called winter