found stones

nearly time for the show,

things to do...to be a participant.

checked all shelves and drawers,

every pocket. 

then got 'em, to my relief they turned up,

found the tickets. good looking tickets.

made with care.

time was short, had to leave now.

hummed a tune to myself all the way.

when i got to the exhibit

filed in with the rest, in order.

line kept moving.

yes, very crowded.

at the show looked with pleasure.

partly sunny, cool, light wind, and comfortable.

stones on the beach

are well shaped, softly colored,

attractive to spellbinding.

now the tough part:

long ago i heard, though it's wild, you don't take

rocks away from anywhere,

leave them where they are.

doing life

how are we?

working hard, sleeping well,

eating right, exercising?

make a list.

keep in line.

oh...enjoy life.

folded mountain

a beer from Rochester, New York is what i'm talking about here.
first time i heard of it.
the beer. i heard of Rochester.
the beer is called folded mountain.
not surprised. they had to come up with a name for the beer...could have been happy mountain.
5.8 percent alcohol.  got that?
okay, so, it's a hot day.
went to the porch.
sat in the shade.
sipped in the shade. ole'
drank my beer...most of it.
wanted a smoke,
thought of it; it's been a month.
so give me a break.
oh, i'll get over it...again.

space

postal worker
drove by today.
leaving nothing.
thus creating
space.

go warm Sunday
who turned up the heat?

turn to good weather

sunshine roars in,

working on golden sweet corn,

also readying, heavy, juicy water melons.

you know the kind.

 then on a twelve hour from Boston drive,

hug hi niece, hello eat next day go,

she's three more hours to Indiana.

 while here awhile, all kept rolling.

hiya summertime some, been watching for you, and enjoy what a season, thankful for all we are. 

chill dawn

chill dawn
on the road to shiloh.
a violet, rose haze,
with blue on edges of far fields.

1844 carved on the stone house on a rise.
other old homes
blanketed in vinyl.
all barns red, newly covered in looks like tin.

there's no balloon on earth
like the fiery red sun
rising in all her glory,
marking the start of new day


...
This last set of four lines I wrote so long ago.  I can't locate the original text, and I see there is a problem...I want to get it right. now the "marking the start of new day" has the meter.

growing corn

you drive along

then park in the lot by the fence;

so you can get out and walk the field

feel the heat doing a burn

it's how you learn

what a sunny day feels like doing a job

right now on the cob.

waving in the wind, getting tall.

the corn is coming up i see,

now you can bet there'll be an ear for me,

i'm getting ready, going home,

fetch butter and salt...that's all i need.

what summer's all about.

quaking

a 7. quake in California,
50 miles in a line to our mountain land
where we lived when we married.
the shake would have had our attention.
now thinking of Jerry in his grave by our cabin
i'm sure made a joke before he cried.

do not lose your head, yet

Shakespeare today

a three hour play,
measure for measure,

in wilting hot weather

with windows open.

am i thee not kidding,

or am i? or am i?

a whamie...off with his...
at times culture is needed

a shake at wendy's may save me.

ole, ole

chickens and the cows don't mind,
if you're the kind
to have eggnog on the fourth of July

ole. get it going, buttercup,
every time, it'll be fine. ole, ole
hold the line, Zabaione

happy holiday.

i think of eggnog,
for my Italian friends,
call it what it is: Zabaione, oh yeah. ole.

Zabaione: the thought
that will not go away

your dad

got hot here.
ninety-two road melting
degrees...and humid.

indoors is cool air fine

how is your living going?

are you still the head dog? 

Meri told me the term today.  

Alpha Dog. yeah. there you are.

and she has a bunny in her garden now.

it is eating the purple plant, 

larkspur, expendable; but i'm
sure it'll develop new appetites.

thought to write you
something...but i
forgot what

but not you.

we got 68 mpg with our 2017 KIA Nero today. 

wanna spread the word. don't see their advertising.

got 58 mpg on the second half of a thirty mile trip.  

the air conditioner took the mileage down.

you made me smile

and you didn't do anything.
see how easy...

love your dad

the game

game begins, this is major league baseball;

right away it's 2-0, 

then 3-0, made me flinch.

end of first inning, it's 4-0.

the game just started.

end of the second inning,

the pace picked up,

8-0.

went to bed.

woke for a final listen on the radio, 

seventh inning, 9-0

really, really went to bed.

woke game over, heard it ended: 13-0

stains one's impression of the home team, 

the good guys.

is the feeling everlasting?

how could it be...it isn't even July.

fall is the big time,

and always, always there is hope again next season.

cancel, cancel

second game the following day against the same bottom ranked 

Baltimore Oriels and our hometown heroes lose again  

by the identical score 13 - zero. 

but i write more. these are the golden boys of summer who two years ago in 2017 won a record setting 22 games in a row.

now Rocky Colavito is touring with his book. in 1959 when i was 14 and routing for him he was Cleveland's outfielder and hit an amazing four home runs in one game.

gee the seasons change,

yet they do go on.

let us

lettuce tastes good;

can add the high point

one a sunny hot lunch day,

meant on a sunny,

there a difference

is well enough,

when in soaring high temps,

shell we, by the sea say?

yes, lettuce. pretty well.

is swell. swell enough.

day's hot. what we've got.

out of space, outer space.

lettuce taste.

brakes on. brake is on.

bake is on.

summer regular

creep along the road

by the fields of wheat;

rained the other day,

wasn't it neat.

hot, yeah, turn up the heat,

cook your brains a while,

then smile, smile, smile.

we loves ya, doll-baby.

i'll take summer regular

the way i do recall,

a light wind, we had rain.

now...not at all, not at all.

sunday now

sky is mostly blue,

good to see it for a change.

weather is drying, first time in a while.

what i know about farming is nothing.

i can only read reports in the news,

already a day old when i write it.

will some farmers plant today...i can't say.

i read they need, desperately need a few days dry weather.

they'll see what's ready...when it is.

i'm able to read reports and hope the best

for them, for fields, for us.

planting is serious and farming is a gamble.

farmer

long hours 

confronting and enduring

powerful, shifting challenges;

this year persistent and excessive rain

during planting season

in order to produce food for

where and when it is needed.

this is the accepted duty and obligation 

of the farmer. fear not, for he is tough 

and suited for the job.

how about the river

a couple of lines

to do with the river,

right downtown;

flowing in,  moving out to the lake...

standing there looking at it.

warm weather for sure,

the light house in the background,

why not let the fog horn sound.

i know a clear day is better,

the fog horn gets your attention.

how about testing it​?
that happened only once in a while.

it sounded louder without the fog too.

wet air makes the air thicker.

takes an edge off the horn.

when they test it you want to jump

because that fog horn comes blasting.

one shot, it works. go back to peaceful.

a good day for all.

okay, enough for the river and the lake too.

now you can just think about it.

water

one fourth of India residents 

have drinking water at home. 

in some areas a family gets 

eight to ten gallons a day. 

American households use 

three hundred gallons a day. 

India grows more populous, 

hotter and dryer; is running 

out of water.

summer for

wait all winter for warmer weather

to drift the river
find water ways,

taking the turns and straights

going up steam in

light wind, clear sky,
the boat and i,

what summer is for
no need for more

and to dream and splash

amid jumping fish and gulls,
any summer night.

flying

woke out of dream,

peaceful, serene.

the house is calm, so am i.

an award to robins: last to sleep, first to wake.

my pet birds are outside,
their wings shake,

fending for themselves,

free flying...flying

seasons

for native americans

names differentiate each  month.

Algonquin tribes saw the june moon

time to harvest strawberries.

in various parts of Europe it is

the honey, rose and mead moon.

overall, intervals of time tracked

independently of one another.

Zuni Indians of New Mexico named the first six moons,

the remainder are called by colors associated with

the four cardinal directions;

thinkers in tribes, as did white man,

invented systems much complicated,

listened, observed the nighttime sky,

sat quietly by fires, smoked pipes,

fed sticks to the embers...
and seasons passed.

the rose

watch it everyday,
summer on the way.
sweet rose on the vine,
flower so divine.

splash

i remember the dive
we called the canon ball.
off the pier we'd go.
yelling all the way down.
what summers were for.
one of us made the greatest splash.
yeah, we had fun in competition
splashtacular.

water down

got up, made my bed, 

showered soapy, water, rinse.

as i parted my head, my hair in the middle,

over my shoulder the electronic calendar read,

clearly a synthetic voice said: "congratulations,

you've made it to another Saturday;

coincidentally, a free rolling weekend,

absolute-mentally disengaged,

with liberty and justice for many,

and ten straight days of rain forecast." What?

"with no humps or little boats in the stream;

thought it best to get it out of the way and tell you clean,

going to rain, keep raining. rain some more.

which size oars do you wish?

for sure keep going and

float to the right."

creek

flows the creek in constant motion,
smooth ripples ferry to the ocean

seconds before sundown

river gulls soar toward the lake
crossing low overhead as last low rays
flash white bellies and orange beaks
golden in the final light of setting sun.

the picture in these words nab the blink and sheen
of a few seconds gliding, brilliant light,
gleam like polished steel, fencers thrusting
before the background, sorrowful autumn gray sky.

door broke

had breakfast at our usual place out in the country.
sat way up front, few people there.
i went to the restroom, then couldn't get out.
the door knob wouldn't open the door.
after thinking two minutes i
knocked on the door six or eight times,
a waitress heard me knocking and let me out.
she said she just happened by,
i said she should tell someone the door is broken.
i don't think she thought about it again.
back at our table, finished my coffee,
ten minutes passed, i was watching,
no one went to the restroom.
we paid our bill and left.
as we were a few miles down the road i wondered
who's trapped in there now?

intentions

Went to the country, had eggs and toast, then gravy on potatoes..too much and ate most of it. Sometimes...yeah, well sometimes I don't follow my good intentions.

June sun

outside the country store few sounds this morning,  a car, a shopper, distant birds, chickens. the slight metal rattle when a guy goes by on his bicycle, he smiles and waves as he passes. not much else going on; good June sun heating still air, been enough rain lately, fields are green. smells of summer all over.


the above is modern formatting, below my traditional beat poetry method. am i going into a period of change.  i'm not sure if that is a question.

outside the country store

few sounds this morning,

a car, a shopper,

distant birds, chickens.

the slight metal rattle when 

a guy goes by on his bicycle, 

he smiles and waves as he passes.

not much else going on;

good June sun heating still air,

been enough rain lately, fields are green,

smells of summer all over. 

a song of it

ask around a while, you'll see,

not completely, but often;

June slides in as the favorite.

i'm thinking good weather 

after the months waiting to get here.

relax in that chair, the one you know and love.

coffee is ready, or take the tea.

sugar or no, as you prefer.

that's clouds rolling in.

and your father,

talking water here, i like water...

a dip in the pool, some rain or the ocean,

float along. find the melody,

make a song of it.

soft and yeah, a song you feel.

words you need, when you desire.

soft and yeah.

from the heart.