Irrigation

Posted on May 27, 2022 by sputterpub

I love the sound of winter rain.
I’d love it August, May or June.
But we don’t get that warm refrain,
so I’ll enjoy the sprinklers’ tune.

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Coffee Again

Posted on May 26, 2022 by sputterpub

It wasn’t the pot.
It was some virus in me.
Coffee tastes good now.

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Regard, Not Regret

Posted on May 25, 2022 by sputterpub

I don’t blame you for giving me this cold.
Apology’s unnecessary now.
There’s rhinovirus prevalent as mold
in darksome damp, and nobody knows how
or why or when we sometimes will succumb.
You’re not responsible, but if you say
“I’m sorry” with a sympathetic tongue
I’ll thank you for concern, and love’s display.

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May Garden

Posted on May 24, 2022 by sputterpub

It’s time to turn the sprinklers on. Today
I checked the settings and I flipped the switch.
We used to wait until the end of May,
but winter didn’t pour on rain enough.
The situation elsewhere’s worse. They say
that west of Rocky Mountains all is drought.
The Texans ought to science more than pray
(unless their prayers are to a water witch).
It’s bad. It will be worse. I’m here to stay.

(Magic 9)

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Feeling Yesterday

Posted on May 23, 2022 by sputterpub

I felt fantastic yesterday, as soon
as I returned from overnight with kids.
I walked into my place at nearly noon,
unpacked my little bag, and met my sibs
to visit Mom and lunch with cousins missed
for two pandemic years. My appetite
received good food, my face was warmly kissed,
and for some hours everything felt right.

And even in the evening, till I slept
at 1 a.m., in front of my TV,
I felt okay. But overnight what crept
on me is not fun symptomatically –
Is this a cold? How often feeling well
is like an omen of an illness spell…

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800 Days

Posted on May 22, 2022 by sputterpub

Somebody liked a poem of mine today.
It sounded unfamiliar. I reviewed.
I’d posted it some weeks ago, but they
approved it now. I’m grateful but subdued.
I don’t recall the stanza, though it’s mine;
I recognize the style, recollect
the thinking when composing every line,
but I forgot its substance and aspect.

Perhaps I’ve writ too many poems to date.
I started daily work from house arrest,
when virus made pandemic made me wait
inside. I figured then some weeks at best
(for “quarantine” has 40 as its root) –
800 days, and still this plague’s acute…

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Reflection

Posted on May 21, 2022 by sputterpub

I’ve noticed that I’m quick to recognize
in others faults I know myself to own.
I’m watching you observe disorganized
behavior in your partner, but you’re known
for such yourself. Does that make any sense?
And don’t you see the other needless course
he demonstrates? How ready his defense?
Self-justifying is your first resource.

You’ve had a spouse for years, but you’re not close
enough to open up and clearly see.
Your coworker’s the soul you diagnose.
And so it shouldn’t feel like mystery
that traits you see in him and now disdain
are clues to what goes on inside your brain.

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Frankism

Posted on May 20, 2022 by sputterpub

“Let me be frank,” our father used to state.
Or “I’ll be frank with you.” We smile/groaned.
For though a candid man, his natal fate
was carrying the word as name. Intoned
right after that was when he often taught
us how to care for goods and be precise
with words, requests, instructions. We all sought
good data, power, most of his advice.

We took his words to heart and mimicked him,
with care for all equipment, boxes kept.
For order we knew every synonym.
We later tried to make our mates adept.
We reaped the tempest with our homely wind,
our father harshly mocked, ourselves chagrined.

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Battle Chill

Posted on May 19, 2022 by sputterpub

I’m feeling cold more deeply than I did
when I was young. I always liked the chill.
As far as I remember, as a kid,
I welcomed winter and derived a thrill
from longer nights and storms that didn’t kill.
Of late I’ve been avoiding cold, inside,
inviting feeling frail and almost ill.
Today I rise and open windows wide.

(Huitain)

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A Day Off

Posted on May 18, 2022 by sputterpub

My customary Wednesday’s somewhat tough.
I have to leave too early for my taste.
I’d rather do my exercise and stuff
involving puzzles, yet I must commute
to love and care for one I won’t rebuff.
But she and hers are hunkering alone
today, exposed of late to Covid. Rough
for them (they’re feeling well). Now I won’t waste
this day. How sweet! I get to play enough.

(Magic 9)

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