eyebrows are

eyebrows are so
you can look startled
curious, interested,
or angry.

eyelids are for winking
and closing out light
the part of the night
when you're sleeping.

crying is for babies
and feeling better, after.




From July 2016. 

donny boy

have a goat, his name is don.

doesn't mind if i get on

and ride like the wind.

he plays horse, of course.

and i'm cowboy.

jumping fences. in the wind.

jumping fences in the wind.

any old morning.

or middle of the night,

running full in starlight.

jumping fences in the wind,

jumping fences in the wind.

explosion

this morning 9:15 an explosion.

the house shook with the boom.

that's the essence of this poem.

noteworthy: power's gone.

a puff of smoke cleared half a block away.

all is silent, also worth note.

city workers walking by out front

said a transformer blew, they pointed.

here no need to heat or cool.

as weather's in the middle,

neither hot nor cold.

patience is required and all will be fine.

city workers are on the job.

meanwhile our coffee is made and cooling.

we'll soon be up and running.

i made this note.

while keeping an eye out.

you never can tell.

sun angle in may

the angle of the morning sun

perfect and bright

like the moon last night,

just right.

onward

to cleveland, wasn't my plan.

have to follow the program,

actually don't have to,

but pieces fall together smother

excuse me, smoother,

together smoother when

my part of the program

is handled as written,

as set out, as expected by others

who depend on me.

besides, my insurance covers me.

so there it is.

now you want roses added

and make this a love poem?

darling, here they are, metaphorically.
program complete.

sky moans

not a patch of blue

only a slowly rotating blanket of darkness

whispering wet morn.

day after day storms hang close.

the last bumped north, growling.

now in line to catch more

it drips the roof hello.

rainy days, we know you.

no need to go out to feel water.

won't plant vegetables today,

better inside, dry

seeing through foggy windows.

look at the puddles, 

hear tapping on the roof.

directionally clear

got out my ship compass 

to check.

with paper, pen, tape.

i labeled from the center.

north is the refrigerator,

that way, south is the rocking chair.

so we can head around knowing

where we are and how to get there.

totally directionally clear.

ode for deer

near the quiet town, New Haven,

three deer, to one side,

off the road

in tall grass, pause.

calmly look our way.

preeminent creatures.

standing without movement,
their beauty

took my breath away.

helpers

the birds help with a poem

they are the live souls.

sure plants are living,

but don't hop on my fence,

can't practically dance.

then let me give a salute to plants

that can be seen growing

day by day

and become flowers

bursting into joyful color

or produce fruits or vegetables

that need only salt or oil

to sure taste good,

provide nutrition;

their down side is

they never tweet.

This is my lost poem of 8 May. Diane, thank you. You copied this and sent a compliment. I lost it and thus you brought it back to live again. I am most grateful.

short line

had a poem lined up,
one, yesterday's.
short line.
where did it go?

i know i had one.
for may 8,
no idea where it went.
so, i say good day

to that what i wrote.
where? can't tell.
no idea what happened.
evidently it didn't float.

lost, though i searched around;
carefully, took my time.
seems i trashed a good one
into the sea of delightful rhyme.

warm again

you know, one day it will be warm again.

another thing,  i'll get my stuff in order.

wait, i'd like more coffee...

please.

// you want a refill?//

did i say that? i meant that.

//here comes//

thanks...and there she goes.

so i said, a lot is out of place.

i have to put stuff away,

things should be where they belong.

they don't go automatically...

too bad.

one day cars will drive themselves,

they say. automatically.

can they build me a garage?

the cars, i mean. i wonder.

//... //

she glared at me.

i'm serious.

//drink your coffee...sip it.

oh, by the way, the good news is

one day it will be warm again.//

onions

carefully eyeing  the circumference of the garden.
having given thought to where summer sun
will best caress the lovelies.

kicked ideas in my head, lost track, came back.
decided exactly where they would thrive.
imagined skin reds and purples of the honey's to be
while patiently waiting
this developing warm spring day.
now: when under arrival the beacon of noon sun 

small bulbs, called sets,

are lovingly pushed one at a time

into invitingly soft, fertilized, prepared soil;

to be watered and sunned,

day after warm day,

growing continuously,

sweet, large, savory and wonderful.
yes,of course there is waiting involved,
but time steps forward.
summer will take a hold.
in a hurrah velvety onions will be.

Race for the Roses

The race was this weekend.

Today we drove in the country

to the Mennonite store.

Wanted to ask if Chuck was here

Meri reminded me, "There is no Saint Chuck,

Mark is his name." I didn't see him,

so I asked the girl in the bonnet

working the counter

who she bet on

in the Kentucky Derby.

come on

i don't remember other years with rain so much.

or all this gray instead of blue.

waiting change again; warm up some.

clear skies, come on home.

what i

what i dreamed i remember.

can't put into words.

it's on the tip of my head, tongue.

ready to make me smile.

the change

here is

the change i've been waiting.

warm today they say,

oh, we're ready.

then on the menu for this afternoon,

a shake 'em up thunderstorm.
we'll work through it,

bear with it.

take what we get.

stopped in Milan, she got coffee,

i had a cheese filled donut,

hey, i chewed it slowly.

she shared her coffee.

still waiting for rain,

and it's warm out, nearly hot.

dogs walking, geese honking,

the park at the reservoir.

breeze blowing; call it wind kicking up.

making circles of last fall's leaves.

man it stirs the trees,

runs ripples on the water.

i hear a train away.

going to rain at three, they say...

a big one, already half past the hour.

checked the radar, storm's running west.

maybe later we'll catch it.

now we're out of it. warm, that's it.

even steven

can you call it,

the game, the card, the number, the winner:

heads or tails?

are you guessing or do you know?

want to tell me how?

can i do it?

predicting with an edge

does you every well?

what can be the difficulty?

is the answer floating in space somewhere?

do you recommend it for under eighteen?

is it better i forget about it?

due

thick clouds, bright,

light gray morning,

easy we go ahead

winding out of April.

May planting time will be welcome.

there's going to be more flowers this year;

i need the color to remind me of the good times.

seems a fine idea, right?

i'm garden ready.

will be out to catch sun rays first chance i get,

can feel the warmth just thinking about it.

summer ahead is due.

treat me well.

remember again

winter long,

no wonder cowboys shot their guns

in the sky, unnecessarily.

flurries falling slow enough to see between,

how's that for a picture in your head?

that was february,

april is winding up.

i am running out of waiting for

weather i can handle.

how about taking my shoes off outside.

no, that's not a question, it's a suggestion.

a remember summer days:

berry pie, garden time.

it'll happen.

rain day

kept in by a rain day.

the current book i'm reading,

today's words i'm writing,

it's dry glue on stiff, old paper adhering my attention.

yet i'll chance a drift to places i've been,

this swell time for drifting,

words of songs i've written float in and out of focus,

along side dear friends.

now this gives me pause.

how pleasant words can be,

jarring memories that hold sweetness.

the flapping wings of a large goose or pheasant

rising from a field, soaring, thump, thump,thump, close by overhead.

i am startled and pleased by the action.

Veering low and off, i feel the wind.

how quickly gone. 

and a smile remains on my face.

a frozen second of good time.

ready to plant

breakfast light,

cooked oats with raisins in.

outside temperature cool,

not freezing.

at the tree by the window,

the bird on the branch seemed to shiver.

we glanced and nodded.

had the same thought.

surely snow is over,

a new season we've got

while cleaning the dishes it seemed

it is reasonable time to be welcoming spring.

the plants are ready, need temperatures rise.

after all, it's nearly May, we've got spring skies

and flowers and seeds to put in the ground,

a new season we're claiming.

she's ready to plant.

the day it quits raining.
i'll make note.

camp out

scout out the far off, soft rolling hills.

you can see miles of dry range;

try this near lone peak
the farmer says it is a good spot

for a tenacious view of sunset.
you have permission to camp there
this light wind, warm, summer day.
bring the gear you need,
carry everything up the hill.

start a small fire, make coffee
and fry up vegetable pot stickers
add zippy,  sweet sauce.
it tastes just right.
talk and laugh a while, glad to be there.

what a spot you have for a bed roll.
light clouds and a sliver for a moon.
discover a quiet, starry night.

with open ways east there's a splendid shot of the rising sun.

it's quiet, a few birds and warm already.
heat up the coffee.
go ahead and smile.
a good way to start the day.

helpers

the birds help with a poem.
they are the live souls.
sure plants are living,
but don't hop on my fence,
can't practically dance.
then let me give a salute to plants
that can be seen growing
day by day
and become flowers
bursting into joyful color
or produce fruit and vegetables
that need only salt or oil
to sure taste good,
provide nutrition;
their down side is
they never tweet.

workin' devices

have seen them for years now,
lined up anywhere,
heads down.
won't look around,
in a hurry,  no apparent worry.
yet somehow concerns are involved.
seem well fed and dressed.
hair is cut to style.
rapid improvises, 
completely dissolved
into their devices.

spring soon

2019 the news grim.
Notre Dame burned.

we drove for breakfast at our favorite place,
looking around for damage. we knew
a portion of the town Shelby two days before
suffered a hit by a tornado.
the restaurant remains unscathed.
later, on the way to the market in Shilo
sheets of roofing metal were strewn across fields,
we passed near a large crumpled metal piece of roofing,
another lie in a field a quarter mile away.
barns had been torn in half while half remained unharmed.
trees are dropped sporadically in wooded areas,
a root ball lies exposed as if plucked from the ground,
with the large trunk lying on its side.
on the way to the Panktown market
we had to divert several times,
half the roads were closed for repair.
in 6 days Spring begins.
hopefully the storms are over.

Flyin'

sleepin' deep
in a hurry tonight,
time is running
8 something to 5 we've marked off.
mornin' take off,
rollin' before dawn.

this is las vegas.
a blanket of silence
would you think...
streets empty
far as i can see ...

all the way up and all the way down.
at this hour ...
plenty folks.
in line, nodded good morning,
behind her eyes shown an understanding, a warmth.


saw baseball hat
with a large red t.
stood for: The

flew all day,
got home.

trip

the days folded like a nomad's tent,
we pegged off a week

visited donna and gerry, we did.
         
drove the mountain ways
under iron filled red cliffs, with
cars and trucks rolling past, thick as
rabits in the wild.

vacationers, population, what hey.

red striations 1 million years old.

rain struck hard on the windshield.
the sound searching, tapping  lonely.

indians could hide
standing in front of you, on the plains.

driving many miles,
nothing out there
 save brush, sand, thin wire fences and
 the distant line of hills.
crusing along
we have no radio on,
there is the hum of the tires on the highway.

colding.

past week,
hot very to be, said they
predicting weather you know who does.
heat went quickly.
we felt a days worth.

walk out now in chill.

Warmth didn't prevail this time utah,
doesn't matter, we've coolness.

canyons, cliffs  explode in uncontrolable fantasy, colorwise, beyond expectation.

snow canyon

eighty degrees, they said it would be,

sixty felt like,

plus overcast,
foot off the gas
Zion ... weather is cool.
takin' it easy.
good talking  gerry brother in law.
books, no bugs out west,
thick gray day. space out here.
no dogs barking today,
cowboys and indians
long ago roamed snow canyon.

crowd

dreamed a crowd,

a busy day, in the crowd ...

but quiet, didn't hear noise.

packed in, many faces, turning, moving.

looking around, some were vaguely familiar.

i had nothing to say.
where have you been?

remembered songs i had written

and forgotten long ago.

not bad songs, never did anything with them.

they are easy to forget again;

like a poem i find again,

and say, oh, yeah, i remember you, then let go again.

it's more comfortable to take slow speed drives

in the country. passing Mennonite families,

dressed in gray, hats and bonnets,

in their horse drawn buggies.

we wave, they wave, smiles, good day all.

i see the young boys wearing

sturdy, wide brim hats like their fathers,

proud, feeling dressed in style.

girls in solid colors, pastels,

then grays, always solid colors, darker as they are older,

all with aprons.

so there goes dreaming,

this summer have to see the festival fund raiser

they hold for their school.

in the meantime all rolls on.

coments

been reading comments.

they can't be real, not written by people.

without pertinence, how can that be?

pushed in piles,

selected out of a stack.

how disappointing to spend time reading

comments that come to me, seem like nothing.

without purpose. i don't understand. 

this week i'll see a relative who exercises.

he'll be happy, and i for him.

i'll see what comments he has:

on life, on how to proceed.

i imagine his advice will be to:

move ahead as best one can.

keep alert to adapt to changes that occur.

hope for the best. yeah, to be lucky is good.

easy does it

worked through the morning
coffeeed up, ate toast, now thinking.
62 to be the high and dry, i'm conditioned,
thinking we're headed for a beautiful day.

meanwhile we've packed for Utah.
to see family in the desert.
the change of climate is a break.
a reward for lasting another winter.

it's not Rome, but i'll take it.
easy does it sounds
like a resignation on the road of  life;
i'll take that too.




on the road, to the road,
these are my considerations.
i'll live with  that too.
an example why i need several days to resolve all.

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.

blue shadow

a snow melt again
in a day's light rain.
warm, but not to get excited;
more cold to come.
today's rain water will
freeze again tonight,
more winter on the way they say;
we'll see enough
to decorate the ground white,
and cast a blue shadow.

come alive

so i'll paint the upstairs walls
in pastels, swirls, tubes, circles
dots, clefs and parallel lines
until the room looks like one of my modern art engravings
come alive

go away winter

warm we can get used to;
it is about time.
surrender winter,
glad to see you go.

big sun

temperatures higher now,
fifty degrees at noon and climbing.
i go to the porch where
it feels familiar though not quite spring,
working in that direction.
Tecumseh, you passed by; were born here
two hundred years ago.
what is new for you, are you
more familiar with this land?
water flowing these streams.
winter's not as tough for you now.
all is quiet in the fields.
the deer are still here.
not as many, yet plenty.
we see them, and now birds
have begun to stir after a tough winter's quiet.
much land is taken over by roads, towns.
trees are fewer yet
forests remain;
thank goodness.

a break

a break in the cold. the freezing,
a little, some better, some say...
we'll see and hope so,
all the way.
161 snow records broken in January,
forty percent of the US covered in snow,
it's winter enough.
look ahead for goodness.
we'll take spring, i know.
all of us are ready.

wait the weather

Chicago is expecting minus 60 Fahrenheit.
every is expecting agonizing low temperatures,
now while sitting at the table
talking about tomorrow's weather.
we will think of it, but not
spend a large amount of time
futurizing weather conditions.
numbers are predicted, then are changed,
we get distracted during the day
and wait to see what happens.

rise, sun

looking out i saw it
such color.
the sun rise exploded pink.
in blistering cold, no wind.
never felt a day like it.
in two more it will drop well below freezing.
this is 29 january 2019 happening now.
see you, pal;
we'll see how it goes.

irregular

didn't cross the field.
came straight down the sidewalk.
i saw the tracks,
not large as i'd expect;
has little bunny feet.

i looked as he crossed the street
then sat up large as a pooka.
his jacket would be a rabbit extra large.
must live under those pine trees;
glad i never walk there.

wild morning light

twisted, rolling clouds lite up,
blown about.
the sun is pow-wild bright.
you forget this is a winter morning
when you're watching wild morning light.

over melt

rain all day on top of
hard pack snow heaps.
they say, again they do the talking,
twelve hours straight of falling water, oh yeah.

how much melt?
it's a matter of warm
don't you suppose, and there is.
warming, then cold again.

lets have
soup for lunch. don't worry
your pretty well
over melt.

heading up

pro foootball players make big money.
you watch them on TV,
that's why they get the gravy.
they get a million dollars
every time they turn around.
buy a ticket and keep 'em going.
i am sorry they bang heads.

january, there is snow

woke to drifts over two feet.
still falling, blowing this morning,
snow like i've never seen.
safe at home.
couldn't get to the street anyway,
no traffic is moving.
twenty-something degrees outside...
wait, i checked, make that 13 and dropping.

i'm staying home; big football on TV;
at the end of baseball season i didn't care,
now can't miss it, it is better than the Superbowl today,
New England Patriots versus Kansas City Chiefs.

here to there

m and i used to be there.
what i see, that's how it is.
an internet live camera looks down on the piazza,
and it tugs at my heart to see Rome this way,

from here; and there it is.
look, now it's afternoon here
and being six hours ahead,
it's nighttime there already.

take a breath.
we'll work it out
and be together
Rome.

glance

waiting snow predictions, revisions,
while it is dusting white,
yielding little flurries;
the storm has not begun;

not the one to shut us in for a few days
or make a drive to the airport perilous.
long ago we'd look and guess the weather,
now we glance and know it will snow at 2pm.

until then

moving is jarring at first,
to find new paint, new walls,
favorite possessions moved to new places.
old tables suddenly turned around take on a look of new.

sun light comes in and through unexpected places.
new window views take getting used to.
waiting a few days will make all become familiar.
until seasons change and tilt the light

cover

woke to the silent white,
a coverlet of snow.
it's heavy, you can feel it.
and not a sound outside.

in the country

lady walked by
where i'm sitting, waiting,
nothing in particular.
she smiles at me.
i take a second to react,
then remember where we are;
although she's not Mennonite
or anything particular, just a middle aged lady,
we are out in the country
where people are kinder.
so i relax and smile back.

Eddie katzman

my friend Eddie
has gone among the stars
no time to fold his tent,
a step and he is gone;
he always traveled light.

- - - - - - -
sifu, gorilla lover.
Oh, Eddie, sunlight reminds me of you.
Bac wa, tai chi, chi gung
so long Eddie Katzman,
your teachings are with me;
friend i am to you

my phone rings

business is going to hell
if companies think
calling me will lead
them to making money

in line

there are favorites
often repeated.
naturally i thought i'd seen every combination;
woke, glanced over;
what i saw on the clock surprised me.
a new one, 1 2 3 4

on the morn

wind on wreaths
shakes 'em so
they blow in the breeze;
this morning they do,
i see that.

when then on a sudden,
it's quiet for certain;
like that you know.
so loosely hang this time,
all working out fine,
no wind, no blow.

my pictures

save my pictures,
keep them flat and dry,
with not a wrinkle.
store them away like sweet dreams;
we spent time together.

do review what I have painted,
now and then,
remember way-back when.

i tell you this:
on cold winter mornings they would build
a keep-warm fire.
you could catch the heat of flames,
a big one. It felt good,
it distracted from the cold.

table in the sun

Giancarlino came by and greeted me
as i sat having coffee with Alberto.
ah, the magic of art and artists
develops at a table in the sun.

È venuto Giancarlino e mi ha salutato
mentre sedevo a prendere un caffè con Alberto.
ah, la magia dell'arte e degli artisti
si sviluppa a un tavolo al sole.

remembers

by the forno
a worker walked by, said ciao, Jack.
the face i knew, forgot his name.

hello, good bye, my friends,
the month went quickly,
old friends, familiar places.

so good to see them all...
i knew when we were young.

monday morning

the week begins with
7 under the wet tent;
each know the chores,
working separately, together;
cutting, cleaning, preparing vegetables
so the market can live again.
food shoppers brave spattering, cool, winter rains,
amid happy chatter.
all jobs will be done.

time

saw a former neighbor lady
from a while ago.
we smiled.
i didn't know what to say;
asked of her child.
feminine, she replied,
sixteen years old.

view

icebergs are melting,
there’s floating trash in the oceans.
the universe is expanding.
scientists have conflicting notions.

is it hotter
or colder,
or the same.
what’s the trend?

i don’t care, it really doesn’t matter to me.
i need to know only two things:
when i go outside do I need a jacket?
and what’s for dinner?

in waves

pages turn
then closing my eyes
goes like rain
after another, another

not rapid though smooth, 
continuous. it's a dream, 
on a train. scenes passing. 
heads down cows on green far hills.

constant movement in waves
then coffee in an unfamiliar bar
somewhat dim, comfortable, pleasant.
worn, rolling wood, beautifully polished.

sun's warmth on my back, and i remember the train.
calmly i gaze out the window; 
so apparent, how pleasant
a nap can be

sitting in the right seat

give me that shot of sun in the eye like you did this morning,
i'd sure like to keep it with me all day,
the warm spot,
all over my face.
you make me happy, sun.

cold outside

do your best, it's important;
but don't knock yourself out.
wear a hat when you go out,
and take your time, don't slip;
the rain is turning to snow.
baby, it's cold outside.

quiet ahead

look now...
see morning's dull beige, long rolling, calm, open fields.
a creek meanders the lower section.
crops have been harvested.
all is buttoned up. farms are still.

what few birds haven't gone south
are down at this hour; geese and scavengers.
dark gray skies have a glow in the east.
chip monks are in hiding,
resting geese a field away.

a good hour to appreciate the view.
winter's here in a month or two,
freeze everything, turn it white,
settle all down until spring.
these are the farmer's easy, between times.
good for planning, thinking.
quiet abounds.

autumn joy

finally the final days
of October got to the leaves,
squeezed out the color.
see it now abound;
the booming joy called autumn is here.
wind blows, relax,
it is the season.

this morning

the wonder sun is cracking
above far trees and buildings
and taps my eye;
that's the start of the day.

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.