-
NOTING WEATHER
The weather, he announced to no one in particular,ought to be musical or at leastincorporate some jazz. Spring is bebop, Trane and Parker,the sudden clash of Blakeythe downpours of Dizzy and the hint of what’s to comeon the fingers of Monk, andKenny and Milt. Summer brings the slow easingas early Miles slides in, and wesink…
-
TROTSKY
He slipped the knife quicklybetween two ribs as hewas carefully trained,withdrew it and placed itinside the raincoat, a bit oddin the bright sun of Mexico City. He disappeared into the streetsand later toiled in an endlessseries of five year plans,sharing the small apartmentsharing bread and the linesalways the lines and waiting. Now in Moscow he…
-
SHARING
It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, butyou probably wouldn’t have been all that upset.It was all about you, but not for you, thatcomes later, and we know you’ll be pleased.This one was for some of us who needed thisto be able to keep going, to keep from lookingonly back, into the darkness that is our…
-
I WANT
I want the sky to be that certain crimsontinged with burnt sienna and cinnabar,but today winter is holding swayand the sun sneaks off behindthe gray wall from which it only peeked,and left the day one of grayscalewhere intensity replaced beautyand even the cardinal opted to stayhigh in the spruce, offeringonly an occasional glint of red.We…
-
HAIKU
The small house fly hasno arachnophobiaonly once in life. In the Norway Sprucepine cones threaten to descend.Squirrels sit waiting. In the sunlit parkthe small dog watches the mango fetch the thrown ball Maple leaves emergealmost certain that winteris now history A rain of petalscherry snow covers the groundwe await the fruit.
-
THE PROMISE
The moon has gone past full and as waning as I write, it’s slow retreat hopefully taking with it the burden of winter, that we now must measure in feet, the inches having been heaved up, one upon another. Spring will come soon for a taste of it, for spring is an inveterate tease, preferring…
-
THE DARK TIME
The trees, bearing up strongly against the still falling snow remember leaves, though the memory has run deep into the sap and slowed. Beneath the frosted bed the bulbs imagine summer, try to picture their blooms, but quickly returned to frozen stasis. The cat thinks of venturing into our yard, sinks its paws into the…
-
DEEP WITHIN
The finches sweep from bush to feeder in a gentle inverted parabola appear head high with a pride reserved for those who fly. The chain link fence is for them no barrier but a honeycomb of perches, full on a warm February afternoon, their song threatening to silence the heart of winter.
-
WINTER MEMORY
As I stare out the window and watch the snow slowly build on the limbs of the now barren sugar maple, painting it with a whiteness that bears heavily giving the smaller branches a better view of the ground in which their fruit of the summer lies buried. I am forced to wonder if the…
-
SUMMER SONGS
the dangling green orbs hang beneath the verdant leaves dreaming of summer. sweat rolls down my back the noon sun stares angrily forgotten winter evening sky darkens is it the approach of night or simple summer rain?
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
an old writer and his words 