Deception

I comprehend our planet’s sick, but here
and now appearances are all benign.
The gardens bloom, the sky is blue and clear,
the drivers and pedestrians align
in local courtesy. It’s hard to fear
catastrophe when every view is fine.
Shipped fruit and radiation rot within –
reminding me of death beneath the skin.

(Ottava Rima)

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Draft About Three

I’ve loved my brothers over 60 years.
We get along, and one I often see.
The other (middle) left us for the spheres
ex-patriot and, now retired, he
lives half a thousand miles from home base,
where even yet our mother carries on.
We text or talk, but seldom can embrace
the one of us we view as long withdrawn.

He never was emotive – he just shrugged
and turned away, while I was known to rage.
The youngest aimed to make us glad, and hugged
his way through living. Now we’re of an age,
the first grows wise, the third’s all happy clangor,
but middle’s stiff and narrow-spined, with anger.

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Impatient Patient Log

Impatient even now, past 95,
she seeks a speedy fix for any ill.
She’s been this way as long as I’m alive –
task-oriented with a stubborn will.
Each fall she takes she’ll bruise and bleed, but still
she lives and mends in months, to our surprise.
She’s slowing slowly on her roll downhill
but healing – even kidneys and (now) eyes.

(Huitain)

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Time Out

I had a spare hour last Friday at 2.
I stretched out full-length on the floor.
I didn’t have errands or labor to do,
and outside the rain fell some more.
The fire glowed orange – its heat was a treat –
it’s spring but the sun wasn’t there.
I took 60 minutes, and peace was complete.
My spirit felt lighter than air.

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To Feel Your Best (YWA)

To feel my best, I guess I can’t forego.
I thought to skip a day, to try to rest,
but less than half an hour I’ll bestow,
to feel my best.

I overdid last night, to fete a guest –
a lot of wine, some sugar, pasta dough:
a festival a challenge to digest.

And it was good, but waking I was slow –
a little headachy, I can attest.
I mimicked every posture on the show,
to feel my best.

(Roundel)

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Near Meeting

One animal is ugly but benign.
The other is unwelcome beauty here.
Today I watched them nearly meet, and veer.

The house cat has a graceful soft design.
The young marsupial is slow and drear.
One animal is ugly but benign.
The other is unwelcome beauty here.

The cat kills birds – its shit and puke malign –
but possum feeds on ticks. The yard is clear
of possum scat – the cat should disappear.
One animal is ugly but benign.
The other is unwelcome beauty here.
Today I watched them nearly meet, and veer.

(English Madrigal)

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Muni Metro Benches

They made the Muni seats too deep or high.
I see a lot of passengers whose heels
don’t reach the floor when sitting back. Now why
did some committee choose to so construct?
Although the rides are short, most riders I
examine are of shorter stature too.
This dangle isn’t good for knee or thigh.
The elderly will ache from ride ordeals.
A seated he-man seems a little guy.

(Magic 9)

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Murk Means Work

I had a bout of clarity last week,
when everyone I love was liking me.
I knew it couldn’t last, and didn’t seek
extension – I just savored feeling free.
Alive to how life changes, constantly
inconstant, I espied approaching murk.
I can’t ignore what’s crazing separately
between us. That was nice. Now back to work.

(Huitain)

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Tentativity

We speak again and neither utters ill,
but not about my life, my news, my pen.
I feel relief but now I wonder: will
we speak again?

I’m tired of her bigotry on men,
her tendency to flouncing quit or chill,
her failure to admit how she was then.

But we go back too far for me to kill
a lifetime of affection, knowing when
alone I can recover love, until
we speak again.

(Roundel)

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Spared (For Now)

Aroused by corvid chorus yesterday,
I marveled at the raucous caws I heard.
There must have been a myriad at sway
above my yard. I like the ebon bird,
but not the clots of shit they leave behind
as they take flight. So I was gratified
that when they fled no defecant maligned
the redwood deck that carpets my outside.

Appreciating my good fortune then,
I raised my gratitude to where they roost.
The eucalypt that towers like Big Ben
and shades the yard and sprinkles nuts it loosed,
is standing up, root-strong, to storm mishaps,
and so far doesn’t threaten fell collapse.

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